This You Can Bet
by TBloves2read
Summary: AU: Cedes Jones knows that happily-ever-after doesn't exist, especially with a man who asked her to dinner to win a bet. Even if he is gorgeous and charming Sam Evans. Sam knows he doesn't stand a chance with Cedes. Even if she does wear great shoes and is more than meets the eye. Will the two take a chance on the biggest gamble, love? Based entirely on Jennifer Crusie's Bet on Me.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the last story of the summer that I will be rewriting for Samcedes fanfiction. It is 75 percent of Jennifer Crusie's _Bet Me_. My rewriting of it includes Glee characters whose looks have changed since Glee. Holly will be only slightly older than Mercedes and will have the red hair she has as Pepper Potts. Marley will be aged up to them and will have the blonde hair she has a Kara in Supergirl****. All characters will be mostly out of character. Sometimes I like to switch things around and have different takes on them when I am doing AU stories. Trigger warnings not that many this time just thirsty women, thirsty men, fat shaming, self-loathing, light gambling, emotional abuse from parents, infidelity, eating disorders, and a bunch of crazy thirty-something-year-olds and their crazy parents.**

**Chapter One**

Once upon a time, Mercedes Jones thought as she stood in the middle of a loud bar, the world was full of good men. She looked into the handsome face of the man she'd planned on taking to her sister's wedding and thought, Those days are long gone.

"This relationship is not working for me," Anthony said.

_I could shove this swizzle stick through his heart_, Cedes thought. She wouldn't do it, of course. The stick was plastic and not nearly pointed enough on the end. Also, people didn't do things like that in Lima, Ohio. _A sawed-off shotgun, now that was the ticket._

"And we both know why," Anthony went on.

He probably didn't even know he was mad; he probably thought he was being chilled and an adult. _At least I know I'm furious_, Cedes thought. She let her anger settle around her, and it made her warm all over, which was more than Anthony had ever done.

Across the room, somebody at the big roulette wheel-shaped bar rang a bell. Another point against Anthony: He was dumping her in a theme bar. The Long Shot. The name alone should have tipped her off.

"I'm sorry, Cedes," Anthony said, clearly not.

Cedes crossed her arms over her gray-checkered suit jacket so she couldn't smack him. "This is because I won't go home with you tonight? It is a weeknight it's Wednesday. I have to work tomorrow. You have to work tomorrow. I paid for my own drink."

"It's not that." Anthony looked noble and wounded as only the tall, dark, and self-righteous could. "You're not making any effort to make our relationship work, which means ..."

_Which means we've been dating for two months and I still won't sleep with you._ Cedes tuned him out and looked around at the babbling crowd. _If I had an untraceable poison, I could drop it in his drink now and not one of these people here would notice._

"... and I do think, if we have a future together, that you should contribute, too," Anthony said.

_Oh, I don't_, Cedes thought, which meant that Anthony had a point. Still, lack of sex was no excuse for dumping her three weeks before she had to wear a maid-of-honor dress that made her look like a fat, demented black shepherdess. "Of course we have a future, Anthony," she said, trying to put her anger on ice. "We have plans. Bree is getting married in three weeks. You're invited to the wedding. To the rehearsal dinner. To the bachelor party. You're going to miss the stripper, Anthony."

"Is that all you think of me?" Anthony's voice went up. "I'm just a date for your sister's wedding?"

"Of course not," Cedes said. "Just as I'm sure I'm more to you than somebody to sleep with."

Anthony opened his mouth and closed it again. "Well, of course. I don't want you to think this is a reflection on you. You're intelligent, you're successful, you're mature. . . ."

Cedes listened, knowing that you're beautiful, you're hot were not coming. If only he'd have a heart attack. Only four percent of heart attacks in men happened before forty, but it could happen. And if he died, not even her mother could expect her to bring him to the wedding.

"... and you'd make a wonderful mother," Anthony finished up.

"Thank you," Cedes said. "That's so not romantic."

"I thought we were going places, Cedes," Anthony said.

"Yeah," Cedes said, looking around the gaudy bar. "Like here."

Anthony sighed and took her hand. "I wish you the best, Cedes. Let's keep in touch."

Cedes took her hand back. "You're not feeling any pain in your left arm, are you?"

"No," Anthony said, frowning at her.

"Pity," Cedes said, and went back to her friends, who were watching them from the far end of the room.

* * *

"He was looking even more uptight than usual," Holly said, looking even taller and hotter than usual as she leaned on the jukebox, her hair flaming under the lights.

Anthony wouldn't have treated Holly so callously. He'd have been afraid to; she'd have dismembered him. Gotta be more like Holly, Cedes thought and started to flip through the song cards on the box.

"Are you upset with him?" Marley said from Cedes' other side, her blonde head tilted up in concern. Anthony wouldn't have left Marley, either. Nobody was mean to sweet, pretty Marley.

"Yes. He dumped me." Cedes stopped flipping. Wonder of wonders, the box had Tupac. Immediately, the bar seemed a better place. She fed in coins and then punched the keys for "Keep Ya Head Up." Too bad Tupac had never recorded one called "Dickhead."

"I knew I didn't like him," Marley said.

Cedes went over to the roulette bar and smiled tightly at the slender bartender dressed like a croupier. She had beautiful long, soft, kinky brown hair, and Cedes thought, _That's another reason I couldn't have slept with Anthony_. Her hair always getting knotted when she left it down and not tied down under a silk scarf, and he was the type who would have noticed.

"Rum and Coke, please," she told the bartender.

Holly and Marley never had man trouble: but in Lima, they looked enough like supermodels to never have to worry about being dateless. She looked at Holly, racehorse-thin in purple zippered leather, shaking her head at Anthony with naked contempt. If she jammed herself into Holly's dress, she'd look like Barney's slut cousin. "Diet Coke," she told the bartender.

"He wasn't the one," Marley said from behind Cedes' shoulder, her hands on her tiny hips.

"Diet rum, too," Cedes told the bartender, who smiled at her and went to get her drink.

Holly frowned. "Why were you dating him anyway?"

"Because I thought he might be the one," Cedes said, exasperated. "He was intelligent and successful and very nice at first. He seemed like a sensible choice. And then all of sudden he went bougie on me."

Marley patted Cedes's arm. "It's a good thing he broke up with you because now you're free for when the right man finds you. Your prince is on his way."

"Right," Cedes said. "I'm sure he was on his way but a truck hit him."

"That's not how it works." Marley leaned on the bar, looking like a superhero. "If it's meant to be, he'll make it. No matter how many things go wrong, he'll come to you and you'll be together forever."

"What is this?" Holly said, looking at her in disbelief. "Barbie's Field of Dreams?"

"That's sweet, Marley," Cedes said. "But as far as I'm concerned, the last good man died when Tupac went."

"Maybe we should rethink keeping Marl as our broker," Holly said to Cedes. "We could be major stockholders in the Magic Kingdom by now."

Cedes tapped her fingers on the bar, trying to vent some tension. "I should have known Anthony was a mistake when I couldn't bring myself to sleep with him. We were on our third date, and the waiter brought the dessert menu, and Anthony said, 'No, thank you, we're on a diet,' and of course, he isn't because there's not an ounce of fat on him, and I thought, 'I'm never taking off my clothes with you' and I paid my half of the check and went home early. And after that, whenever he made his move, I thought of the waiter and crossed my legs."

"He wasn't the one," Marley said with conviction.

"You think?" Cedes said, and Marley looked wounded. Cedes closed her eyes. "Sorry. Sorry. Really sorry. It's just not a good time for that stuff, Marl. I'm mad. I want to savage somebody, not look to the horizon for the next jerk who's coming my way."

"Sure," Marley said. "I understand."

Holly shook her head at Cedes. "Look, you didn't care about Anthony, so you haven't lost anything except a date to Bree's wedding. And I vote we skip the wedding. It has 'disaster' written all over it, even without the fact that she's marrying her best friend's boyfriend."

"Her best friend's ex-boyfriend. And I can't skip it. I'm the maid of honor." Cedes gritted her teeth. "It's going to be hell. It's not just that I'm dateless, which fulfills every prophecy my mother has ever made, it's that she's crazy about Anthony."

"We know," Marley said.

"She tells everybody about Anthony," Cedes said, thinking of her mother's avid little face. "Dating Anthony is the only thing I've done that she's liked about me since I got the flu freshman year and lost ten pounds. And now I have no Anthony." She took her diet rum from the bartender, said, "Thank you," and tipped her lavishly. There wasn't enough gratitude in the world for a server who kept the drinks coming at a time like this. "Most of the time it doesn't matter what my mother thinks of me because I can avoid her, but for the wedding? No."

"So you'll find another date," Marley said.

"No, she won't," Holly said.

"Oh, thank you," Cedes said, turning away from the over-designed bar. The roulette pattern was making her dizzy. Or maybe that was the rage.

"Well, it's your own fault," Holly said. "If you'd quit assigning a statistical probability to the fate of a union with every guy you meet and just go out with somebody who turns you on, you might have a good time now and then."

"I'd be a puddle of damaged ego," Cedes said. "There's nothing wrong with dating sensibly. That's how I found Anthony." Too late, she realized that wasn't evidence in her favor and knocked back some of her drink to ward off comments.

Holly wasn't listening. "We'll have to find a guy for you." She began to scan the bar, which was only fair since most of the bar had been scanning her. "Not him. Not him. Not him. Nope. Nope. Nope. All these guys would try to sell you mutual funds." Then she straightened. "Hello. We have a winner." Marley followed her eyes. "Who? Where?"

"The tall guy in the navy blue suit. In the middle on the landing up by the door."

"Middle?" Cedes squinted at the raised landing at the entry to the bar. It was wide enough for a row of faux poker tables, and four tall men were talking to a blond in red. One of the four was Anthony, now surveying his domain over the dice-studded wrought-iron rail. The landing was only about five feet higher than the rest of the room, but Anthony contrived to make it look like a balcony. It was probably requiring all his self-control to keep from doing the Queen Elizabeth Wave.

"That's Anthony," Cedes said, turning away."And some blonde. Good Lord, he's dating somebody else already." _Get out now_, Cedes told the blond silently.

"Forget the lady," Holly said. "Look at the guy in the middle. Wait a minute, he'll turn back this way again. He doesn't seem to be finding Anthony that interesting."

Cedes squinted back at the entry again. The navy suit was taller than Anthony, and he was white with light sandy brown hair, but otherwise, from behind, he was pretty much Anthony II. "I did that type and I am not looking to recast," Cedes said, and then he turned.

Sandy brown hair, yummy lips, classic chin, broad shoulders, chiseled everything, and all of it at ease as he stared out over the bar, ignoring Anthony, who suddenly looked a little less handsome. Cedes sucked in her breath as every cell she had come alive and whispered, _This one,_ when she finally looked at the man in the blue suit. Then she turned away before anybody caught her slack-jawed with admiration. He was not the one, that was her DNA talking, looking for a high-class sperm donor. Every woman in the room with a working ovary probably looked at him and thought, _This one_. Well, biology was not destiny. The amount of damage somebody that beautiful could do to a woman like her was too much to contemplate. She took another drink to cushion the thought, and said, "He's too pretty."

"No," Holly said. "That's the point. He's not pretty. Anthony is pretty. That guy looks like an adult."

"Okay, he's full of testosterone," Cedes said.

"No, that's the guy on his right," Holly said. "The one with the head like a bullet. I bet that one talks about sports and slaps people on the back. The navy suit looks civilized with an edge. Tell her, Marley."

"I don't think so," Marley said, her pretty face looking grim. "I know him."

"In the biblical sense?" Holly said.

"No. He dated my cousin Madison. But—"

"Then he's fair game," Holly said.

"—he's a hit and run player," Marley finished. "From what Madison said, he dazzles whoever he's with for a couple of months and then drops her and moves on. And she never sees it coming."

"The beast," Holly said without heat. "You know, men are allowed to leave women they're dating."

"Well, he makes them love him and then he leaves them," Marley said. "That is beastly."

"Like Anthony," Cedes said, her instinctive distrust of the navy suit confirmed. Holly snorted. "Oh, like you ever loved Anthony."

"I was trying to," Cedes snapped.

Holly shook her head. "Okay, none of this matters. All you want is a date for the wedding. If it takes the beast a couple of months to dump you, you're covered. So just go over there—"

"No." Cedes turned her back on everybody to concentrate on the black and white posters over the bar: Paul Newman shooting pool in The Hustler, Marlon Brando throwing dice in Guys and Dolls, W. C. Fields scowling over his cards in My Little Chickadee. Where were all the women gamblers? It wasn't as if being a woman wasn't a huge risk all by itself. Twenty-eight percent of female homicide victims were killed by husbands or lovers.

Which, come to think of it, was probably why there weren't any women gamblers. Living with men was enough of a gamble. She fought the urge to turn around and look at the beast on the landing again. Really, the smart thing to do was stop dating and get a dog.

"You know she won't go talk to him," Marley was saying to Holly. "Statistically speaking, the probable outcome is not favorable."

"Screw that." Holly nudged Cedes and sloshed the Coke in her glass. "Imagine your mother if you brought him to the wedding. She might even let you eat carbs." She looked at Marley. "What's his name?"

"Samuel Evans," Marley said. "Madison was buying wedding magazines when he left her. She was writing 'Madison Evans' on scrap paper."

Holly looked appalled. "That's probably why he left."

"Samuel Evans." Against her better judgment, Cedes turned back to watch him again.

"Go over there," Holly said, prodding her with one long fingernail, "and tell Anthony you hope his rash clears up soon. Then introduce yourself to the beast, smile, and don't talk statistics."

"That would be shallow," Cedes said. "I'm thirty-three. I'm mature. I don't care if I have a date for my sister's wedding. I'm a better person than that." She thought about her mother's face when she got the news that Anthony was history. _No, I'm not._

"No, you're not," Holly said. "You're just too chicken to cross the room."

"I suppose it might work." Marley frowned across the room. "And you can dump him after the wedding and give him a taste of his own medicine."

"Yeah, that's the ticket." Holly rolled her eyes. "Do it for Madison and the rest of the girls." He was in profile now, talking to Anthony. The man should be on coins, Cedes thought. Of course, looking that beautiful, he probably never dated the terminally chubby. At least, not without sneering. And she'd been sneered at enough for one night.

"No," Cedes said and turned back to the bar. Really, a dog was a good idea.

"Look, Stats," Holly said, exasperated, "I know you're conservative, but you're damn near solidifying lately. Dating Anthony must have been like dating concrete. And then there's your apartment. Even your furniture is stagnant."

"My furniture is my grandmother's," Cedes said stiffly.

"Exactly. Your butt's been on it since you were born. You need a change. And if you don't make that change on your own, I will have to help you."

Cedes' blood ran cold. "No."

"Don't threaten her," Marley said to Holly. "She'll change, she'll grow. Won't you, Cedes?" Cedes looked back at the landing, and suddenly going over there seemed like a good idea. She could stand under that ugly wrought-iron railing and eavesdrop, and then if Samuel Evans sounded even remotely nice—ha, what were the chances?—she could go up and say something sweet to Anthony and get an intro, and Holly would not have movers come in while she was at work and throw out her furniture.

"Don't make me do this for you," Holly said.

Standing at a roulette wheel bar sulking wasn't doing anything for her. And with all she knew ahead of time, it wasn't likely that he could inflict much damage. Cedes squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. "I'm going in, coach."

"Do not say 'percent' at any time for the rest of the night," Holly said, and Cedes straightened her gray-checkered jacket and said a short prayer that she'd think of a great pick-up line before she got to the landing and made a fool of herself. In which case, she'd just spit on the beast, push Anthony over the railing, and go get that dog.

"Just so there's a plan," she said to herself and started across the floor.

* * *

Up on top of the landing, Sam Evans was thinking seriously about pushing Anthony Rashad over the railing._ I should have moved faster when I saw them coming_, he thought. It was Hunter's fault.

"You know, that redhead has great legs," Hunter had said. "See her? At the bar, in the purple with the zippers? You suppose she likes football players?"

"You haven't played football in fifteen years." Sam had sipped his drink, easing into an alcohol-tinged peace that was broken only slightly when somebody with no taste in music played a rap song. As far as he was concerned the only two drawbacks to the place were the stupid decor and the fact that rap music was on the jukebox.

"All right, it's been a while since I played, but she doesn't know that." Hunter looked back at the redhead.

"I got ten bucks says she'll leave with me. I'll use my chaos theory line."

"No bet," Sam said. "Although that is a terrible line, so that would shorten the odds." He squinted across the room to the roulette wheel bar. The redhead was flashy, which meant she was Hunter's type. There was a pretty blonde there, too, the perky kind, their friend Ryder's dream date. Behind the bar, Santana saw him watching and waved, but she didn't smile, and Sam wondered what was up as he nodded to her. Hunter put his arm around Sam. "Help me out here, she's in a group. You go over and pick up her chubby friend in the gray-checkered suit, and Ryder can hit on the athletic blonde. I'd give you the blonde, but you know Ryder and athletic blondes."

Ryder jerked to attention at Sam's elbow. "What? What athletic blonde?" He peered across the room at the bar. "Oh. Oh."

"Suit?" Sam looked back at the bar.

"The one in gray." Hunter nodded toward the bar. "Between the redhead and the blonde. She's hard to see because the redhead sort of dazzles you. I bet you—"

"Oh." Sam squinted to see the short woman between the redhead and the blonde. She was dressed in a dull, boxy, gray-checkered suit, and her round face scowled under dark hair yanked back into a knot on the top of her head. "Nope," he said and took another drink. Hunter smacked him on the back and made him choke. "Come on, live a little. Don't tell me you're still pining for Lucy Quinn."

"I never pined for Lucy Quinn." Sam glanced around the crowd. "Keep an eye out for her, will you? She's in that red thing she wears when she's trying to get something."

"She can get it from me," Hunter said.

"Great." Sam's voice was fervent. "I'll even go pick up that suit if you'll marry Quinn." Hunter choked on his drink. "Marry?"

"Yes," Sam said. "She wants to get married. Surprised the hell out of me." He thought for a moment about Lucy Quinn, a beauty queen with a spine of steel. "I don't know where she got the idea we were that close."

"There she is." Ryder was looking over Sam 's shoulder. "She's coming up the stairs now." Sam got up and tried to move past Hunter to the door. "Out of my way."

Hunter stayed in his chair. "You can't leave, I want the redhead."

"So go get her," Sam said, trying to get around him.

"Lucy Quinn's got Anthony with her," Ryder said, and there was great sympathy in his voice.

"Sam!" Anthony's voice grated over Sam's shoulder. "Just who we were looking for." He sounded mad as hell, but when Sam turned, Anthony was smiling.

Trouble, Sam thought and smiled back with equal insincerity. "Anthony. Lucy Quinn. Great to see you."

"Hello, Sam." Lucy Quinn smiled up at him, her face lethally lovely. "How've you been?"

"Great. Couldn't be better. You are looking great." Sam looked past her to Anthony, and thought, _Take her_, _please_. "You're a lucky man, Anthony."

"I am?"

"Dating Lucy Quinn," Sam said, putting all the encouragement he could into his voice. Lucy Quinn took Anthony's arm.

"We just ran into each other." She turned her shoulder to Sam and glowed up at Anthony. "But it is nice seeing him again." Her eyes slid back to Sam's face, and he smiled past her ear again, radiating no jealousy at all as hard as he could.

Anthony looked down into her beautiful face and blinked, and Sam felt a stab of sympathy for him. Lucy Quinn was enchanting up close. And from far away. From everywhere, really, which was how he'd ended up saying yes to her all the time. Sam glanced at her impeccably tight little body in her impeccably tight little red dress and then took a step back as he jerked his eyes away, reminding himself of how peaceful life was without her. Distance, that was the key. Maybe a cross and some garlic, too.

"Of course," Anthony was saying. "Maybe we can do dinner later." He glanced at Sam, looking triumphant.

"Well, don't let us keep you." Sam took another step back and bumped into the railing. Lucy Quinn let go of Anthony's arm, her glow diminished. "I'll just freshen up before we go." Hunter and Anthony watched as her perfect rear end swung away from them, while Ryder ignored her to peer across the room at the other blonde, and Sam took another healthy swallow of his drink and wished he were somewhere else. Anywhere else. Dinner, for example. Maybe he'd stop by Rory's and eat in the kitchen. There were no women in Rory's kitchen.

"So, Anthony," Hunter was saying. "How'd our seminar work out for you?"

"It was terrific," Anthony said. "I didn't think anybody could teach some of those morons that new program, but everybody at the firm is now up to speed. We've even .. ." He went on and Sam nodded, thinking that one of the many reasons he didn't like Anthony was his tendency to refer to his employees as morons. Still, Anthony paid his bills on time and gave credit where it was due; there were much worse clients. And if he took over Lucy Quinn, Sam was prepared to feel downright warm toward him.

Anthony wound down on whatever it was he'd been saying and looked toward the stairs. "About Lucy Quinn. I thought that you and she—"

"No." Sam shook his head with enthusiasm. "She left me a couple of months ago."

"Isn't it usually the other way around?"

Anthony arched an eyebrow and looked ridiculous. And still, women went out with him. Life was a mystery. So were women. Sam thought.

"Aren't you supposed to be the guy who never strikes out?" Anthony said.

"No," Sam said.

"He's losing his edge," Hunter said. "I found an easy pickup for him, and he said no."

"Which one?" Anthony said.

"The gray-checkered suit at the bar." Hunter motioned with his glass, and Anthony looked at the bar and then turned back to Sam, smooth as ever.

"Maybe you are losing it." Anthony smiled at him. "She shouldn't be that hard to get. It's not like she's a Lucy Quinn."

"She's all right," Sam said, cautiously.

Anthony leaned in. "After all, nobody says no to you, right?"

"What?" Sam said.

"I'm willing to bet you that you can't get her," Anthony said. "A hundred bucks says you can't nail her." Sam pulled back. "What?"

Anthony laughed, but there was an edge to his voice when he spoke. "It's just a bet, Sam. You guys love risk, I've seen you bet on damn near everything. This isn't even that big a bet. We should make it two hundred."

That was when Sam had contemplated giving Anthony a healthy push. Hunter turned his back to Anthony and mouthed, Humor him, and Sam sighed. There must be something he could ask for that would make Anthony back down. "That baseball in your office," he said. "The one in the case."

"My Pete Rose baseball?" Anthony's voice went up an octave.

"Yeah, that one. That's my price." Sam slugged back the rest of his scotch and looked around for a waitress.

Anthony shook his head. "Not a chance. My dad caught that pop-up for me in eighty-five. But I like your style, upping the stakes like that." He leaned in closer. "Tell you what. The last refresher seminar you ran for us set me back ten grand. I'll bet you ten thousand in cash against a free seminar—"

Sam forced a smile. "Anthony, I was kidding—"

"But for ten thou, you have to get her into bed. I'll play fair. I'll give you a month to get her out of that gray-checkered suit."

"Piece of cake," Hunter said.

Sam glared at Hunter. "Anthony, this isn't my kind of bet."

"It's my kind," Anthony said, drawing his brows together, and Sam thought, _Hell, he's going to push this, and we need his business._

Okay, clearly booze had shut down Anthony's brain. But once it was back up and working again, Anthony would back down on the ten thousand, that was insane, and Anthony was never insane about money. So all he had to do was stall until Anthony sobered up and then pretend the whole thing never happened. He stole a glance across the room to the bar and was delighted to see that the gray suit had disappeared at some point during their conversation.

Sam turned back to Anthony and said, "Well, I would, Anthony, but she's gone." And God bless you, gray suit, for leaving, he thought and picked up his drink again.

Things were finally going his way.

* * *

Cedes had walked across the room, telling herself that it was a real toss-up as to which would be worse, trying to talk to this guy or enduring Bree's wedding unescorted. When she neared the landing, she edged her way under the rail, catching faint snatches of conversations as she went, not stopping until she heard Anthony's voice faintly above her, saying, "But for ten, though, you have to get her into bed."

What? Cedes thought. It was noisy up there by the door, maybe she hadn't heard him—

"I'll play fair," Anthony went on. "I'll give you a month to get her out of that gray-checkered suit." Cedes looked down at her gray-checkered suit.

"Piece of cake," somebody said to Anthony, and Cedes thought, _Son of a bitch, the world is full of sex-crazed bastards,_ and forced herself to move on before she climbed the railing and killed them both. She headed back to Holly and Marley, fuming. She knew exactly what Anthony was up to. He assumed she wouldn't sleep with anybody because she'd turned him down. She'd warned him about that, about the rash assumptions he made, but instead of taking her advice, he'd kept asking her out. Because he thought I was a sure thing, she realized. Because he'd looked at her and thought, overweight smart woman who'll never cheat on me and will be grateful I sleep with her. "Bastard," she said out loud. She should have sex with Samuel Evans just to pay Anthony back. But then she'd have no way of getting even with Samuel Evans. God, she was dumb. Fat and dumb, there was a winning combo.

"What's wrong?" Holly said when she was back at the bar. "Did you ask him?"

"No. As soon as you finish your drinks, I'm ready to go." Cedes turned back to the balcony and caught sight of them, just as they caught sight of her.

Anthony's face was smug, but Samuel Evans clutched his drink and looked like he'd just seen Death.

* * *

"There she is," Anthony crowed. "I told you she'd be back. Go get her, champ."

"Uh, Anthony," Sam began, consigning the gray-checkered suit to the lowest circle of hell.

"A bet's a bet."

Sam put his empty glass down on the rail and thought fast. The suit did not look happy, so the odds weren't impossible that she'd go for a chance to get out of the bar if he offered dinner. "Look, Anthony, sex is not in the cards. I'm cheap, but I'm not slimy. You want to bet ten bucks on a pickup, fine, but that's it. Nothing with a future."

Anthony shook his head. "Oh, no, I'll bet on the pickup, too, ten bucks if you leave with her. But the ten thousand is still on. If you lose . . ." He smiled at Sam, drawing out the 'lose,' "you do a seminar for me for free."

"Anthony, I can't make that bet," Sam said, trying another tack. "I have two partners who—"

"I'm good for it," Hunter said. "Sam never misses."

Sam glared at him. "Well, Ryder isn't good for it."

"Hey, Ryder, you in?" Hunter said, and Ryder said, "Sure," without looking away from the blonde at the bar.

"Ryder," Sam said.

"She's the prettiest thing I've ever seen," Ryder said.

"Ryder, you just bet that I could get a woman into bed," Sam said with great patience. "Now tell Anthony you don't want to bet a ten-thousand-dollar refresher seminar on sex."

"What?" Ryder said, finally looking away from the blonde.

"I said—" Sam began.

"Why would you bet on something like that?" Ryder said.

"That's not the question," Hunter said. "The question is, can he do it?"

"Sure," Ryder said. "But—"

"Then we have a bet," Anthony said.

"No, we do not," Sam said.

"You don't think you can do it," Anthony said. "You're losing it."

"This is not about me," Sam said, and then Lucy Quinn slid back into the group and put her hand on his arm.

She leaned into him, and he felt his blood heat right on cue.

"She's over there waiting for you," Anthony said an edge in his voice.

"She?" Lucy Quinn's glow dimmed. "Are you seeing somebody?" Oh, hell, Sam thought.

"Sam?" Anthony said.

"Sam?" Lucy Quinn said.

"I love this," Hunter said.

"What?" Ryder said.

Sam sighed. It was the suit or Lucy Quinn, the rock or the soft place who wanted to get married. He detached her hand from his arm. "Yes, I'm seeing somebody. Excuse me." He pushed past Lucy Quinn and Anthony and headed for the bar, wishing them both the worst fate he could think of, that they'd end up together.

* * *

Cedes watched Samuel Evans move toward the stairs. The beast. He thought that he could get her in a month, that she was so pathetic she'd just—

Her brain caught up with her train of thought, and she straightened.

"Will you tell us what's wrong?" Holly said.

"A month," Cedes said.

He walked down the steps and made his way through the crowd, ignoring the come-hither looks of the women he passed.

He was coming to pick her up.

Suppose she let him. Suppose for the next three weeks she made him pay by stringing him along and then took him to Bree's wedding. He wouldn't leave her; he had to stick for a month to win his damn bet. All she had to do was say no to sex for three weeks, drag him to her sister's wedding, and then leave his ass cold. Cedes settled back against the bar and examined the idea from all sides. He more than deserved to be tortured for three weeks. And in those three weeks, she could figure out a way to make Anthony suffer, too. And her mother would have somebody beautiful to point out to people at the wedding as her date. It was a plan, and as far as she could see, it was all good.

The bartender came back and Cedes said, "Rum and Diet Coke, please. A double."

"That's your third," Holly said. "And fourth. The aspartame alone will make you insane. What are you doing?"

"Was he mean to you?" Marley said. "What happened?"

"I didn't talk to him." Cedes waved them away. "Move down the bar a couple of feet will you. I'm about to get hit on and you're cramping my style."

"We missed something," Holly said to Marley.

"Move," Marley said and pushed Holly down the bar.

Cedes turned away when the bartender brought her her drink, so when The Beast spoke from beside her, she jerked her head up and caught the full force of him unprepared: hot green eyes, perfect face, and a mouth a woman would betray her moral fiber to bite into. Her heart kicked up into her throat, and she swallowed hard to get it back where it belonged.

"I have a problem," he said, and his voice was low and smooth, warm enough to be charming, rich enough to clog arteries.

White chocolate, Cedes thought and looked at him blankly, keeping her breathing slow. "Problem?"

"Well, usually my line is 'Can I buy you a drink?' but you have one." He smiled at her, radiating testosterone through his expensive suit.

"Well, that is a problem." She started to turn away.

"So what I thought," he said, his voice dropping even lower as he leaned closer to her and made her heart pound, "was that we could go somewhere else, and I could buy you dinner." The closer he got, the better he looked. He was the used car salesman of seducers, Cedes decided, trying to get her distance back. You could never get a good deal from a used car salesman; they sold cars all the time and you only bought a couple in a lifetime so they always won. Statistically speaking, you were toast before you walked on the lot. She could only imagine how many women this guy had mutilated in his lifetime. The mind boggled.

His smile had disappeared while he waited for her answer, and he looked vulnerable now, taking a chance on asking her out. He faked vulnerable very well. Remember, she told herself, the sons of bitches who were doing this for ten bucks. Actually, he was trying to do her for ten bucks. Cheapskate. Suddenly, breathing normally was not a problem.

"Dinner?" she said.

"Yes." He bent still closer. "Somewhere quiet where we can talk. You look like someone with interesting things to say. And I'm somebody who'd like to hear them."

Cedes smiled at him. "That's a terrible line. Does it usually work for you?" He froze for a second, and then he segued from sincere to boyish again. "Well, it has up till now."

"It must be your voice," Cedes said. "You deliver it beautifully."

"Thank you." He straightened. "Let's try this again." He held out his hand. "I'm Samuel Evans, but my friends call me Sam."

"Cedes Jones." She shook his hand and dropped it before it could feel warm in her grasp. "And my friends would call me foolhardy if I left this bar with a stranger."

"Wait." He got out his wallet and pulled out a twenty. "This is cab fare. If I get fresh, you get a cab." Holly would take the twenty and then dump him. There was a plan, but Holly didn't need a wedding date. What else would Holly do? Cedes plucked the twenty from his fingers. "If you get fresh, I'll break your nose." She folded the twenty, unbuttoned her top two blouse buttons, and tucked the bill into the V of her sensible cotton bra so that only a thin green edge showed. That was one good thing about packing extra pounds, you got cleavage to burn.

She looked up and caught his eyes looking down, and she waited for him to make some comment, but he smiled again. "Fair enough," he said, "let's go eat," and she reminded herself to ignore what a beautiful mouth he had since it was full of a forked tongue.

"First, promise me no more lame lines," she said and watched his jaw clench.

"Anything you want," he said.

Cedes shook her head. "Another line. I suppose you can't help it. And free food is always good." She picked up her purse from the bar. "Let's go-"

She walked away before he could say anything else, and he followed her, past a dumbfounded Holly and a delighted Marley, across the floor and up onto the landing by the door, and the last thing she saw as they left was Anthony looking outraged.

The evening was turning out much better than she'd expected.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello, I don't own anything but my mistakes, This work is 75% Crusie, 10% Glee, and you can blame the rest on me. Thanks for reviewing, following, and favoriting, and most of all reading this cray cray cray mess.**

**Chapter Two**

Holly scowled at the empty doorway. This was not good. When Samuel Evans came back in and spoke to Anthony for a moment, it didn't get better.

"Do you suppose it was the booze?" Marley asked.

Holly thought fast. "I don't know what it was, but I don't like it. Why was he hitting on her?"

Marley frowned. "It's not like you to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous." Holly transferred her scowl to Marley. "Think about it. Cedes sends out no signals, he's never talked to her so he can't know how great she is, and she's dressed like a nun with an MBA. But he crosses a crowded bar to pick her up—"

"It's possible," Marley said.

"—right after he's talked to Anthony," Holly finished, nodding to the landing where a stunned faced Anthony was now moving in on the blonde.

"Oh." Marley looked stricken. "Oh, no."

"There's only one thing we can do." Holly squared her shoulders. "We've got to find out what Samuel the Beast is up to."

"How—"

Holly nodded at the mezzanine. "He was with those two guys. Which one do you want, the big dumb-looking one or the bullet head?"

Marley followed her eyes to the landing and sighed. "Not the bullet head, he looks like he would be handsy, and I'm not up to that tonight. The other one will do. He looks harmless.

"Well, I am up to anything tonight so I'll take old bully." Holly put her drink on the bar and leaned back. The bullet head was looking right at her.

"The last time I saw a brow that low I was watching slides in an anthropology class." She met his stare dead on for a full five seconds. Then she turned back to the bar. "Two minutes."

"It's a crowded room, Hol," Marley said. "Give him three."

* * *

Anthony had watched Sam open the street door for Cedes and felt a flare of jealous rage. It wasn't that he wanted to kick Sam. He always wanted to kick Sam. The guy never broke a sweat, never made a bad business move, never lost a bet, and never hit on a woman and missed. _Your therapist warned you about this_, he told himself, but he knew it wasn't just his need to be first in everything. This time the jealousy had an extra twist. This time Sam had taken Cedes. Cedes who was good, solid wife material except for that stubborn streak which he could have worn down, she'd have come back eventually. But now—He stiffened as Sam came back through the door and motioned him over.

"We're going to dinner," Sam said, holding out his hand. "Ten bucks." He sounded mad, which made Anthony feel better as he took out his wallet and handed Sam the ten.

"Smart move not tipping me that she hates men," Sam said.

Then he was gone, and Anthony went back to the railing and said, "I think I just made a mistake."

"You, too?" Lucy Quinn said, her voice sad over her martini glass.

Anthony glanced at the door. "So it wasn't your idea to break up with Sam ?"

"No." Lucy Quinn stared at the door. "I thought it was time to get married, so I said, 'Now or never.'" She smiled tightly up at Anthony. "And he said, 'Sorry.'" She drew in a deep breath and Anthony tried not to be distracted by the fact that she was braless under her red jersey dress.

"That's lousy." Anthony leaned against the rail so he couldn't look down her dress since that would be crass, something Sam Evans would do. "Sam must be a moron."

"Thank you." Lucy Quinn turned back to watch the bar as Hunter got up from the next table and walked down the stairs with Ryder following. Her hair moved like TV hair, a pretty silky fall that brushed her shoulders.

"I'd love to know how Sam met that woman. I could have sworn he wasn't dating anybody." Anthony considered telling her that Sam had picked up Cedes because of the bet and then thought, No. The bet had not been his finest hour. In fact, for the life of him, he couldn't think why he'd done it, it was as if some malignant force had whispered in his ear. No, it was Sam's fault, that's what it was, and it was a disaster because if Cedes ever found out he'd made that bet...

"Do you know her?" Lucy Quinn said.

"She's my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh." Lucy Quinn put her drink down. "Well, I hope Sam's sorry he picked her up. I hope he realizes what he's lost once he gets her back to his place."

"They're not going back to his place," Anthony said. "She won't." Lucy Quinn waited, and he added, "She doesn't like sex."

Lucy Quinn smiled.

Anthony shrugged. "At least, she wouldn't try it in the two months we were together. So I ended it." Lucy Quinn shook her head, still smiling. "You didn't give the relationship enough time. What does she do for a living?"

Anthony stiffened at the criticism. "She's an actuary. And it strikes me that two months —"

"Anthony," Lucy Quinn said, "if you wanted sex in the first five minutes, you should have dated a stripper. If she's an actuary, she's a cautious person, her career is figuring out how to minimize risk, and in your case, she was right."

Anthony began to dislike Lucy Quinn. "How was she right?"

You left her over sex." Lucy Quinn leaned forward, and Anthony pretended not to watch her breasts under the jersey. "Anthony, this is my specialty. If you loved her, you wouldn't have given her an ultimatum over sex."

"What is it you do?" Anthony said, coldly.

"I'm a psychologist." Lucy Quinn picked up her drink, and Anthony remembered some of the gossip he'd heard.

"You're the dating guru," he said, warming to her again. She was practically a celebrity. "You've been on TV."

"I do guest spots," Lucy Quinn said. "My research on relationships has been very popular. And all of it tells me you do not give an ultimatum over sex."

"You gave Sam one."

"Not over sex," Lucy Quinn said. "I'd never deny him sex. And it wasn't an ultimatum, it was a strategy. We'd been together nine months, we were past infatuation and into attachment, and I knew that all he needed was a physiological cue to make him aware of his true feelings."

"That makes no sense at all," Anthony said.

Lucy Quinn smiled at him without warmth. "My studies have shown that the process of falling into mature love happens in four steps." She held up one finger. "When you meet a woman, you subconsciously look for cues that she's the kind of person you should be with. That's the assumption." She held up a second finger. "If she passes the assumption test, you begin to get to know her to find out if she's appropriate for you. If she is, you're attracted." She held up a third finger. "If, as you get to know her, the attraction is reinforced with joy or pain or both, you'll fall into infatuation. And .. ." She held up her fourth finger. "If you manage to make a connection and attach to each other during infatuation, you'll move into mature, unconditional love."

"That seems a little clinical," Anthony said, faking interest. After all, she was almost a celebrity.

"That doesn't mean it's wrong," Lucy Quinn said. "Take the assumption. Your subconscious mind scans women and picks out those that meet your assumptions about the kind of woman you're attracted to."

"I like to think I'm not close-minded," Anthony said.

"Which is why I'm surprised Sam picked up your Cedes." Lucy Quinn sipped her drink. "One of his assumptions is that his women will be beautiful."

"I always thought Sam was shallow," Anthony said, and thought, He picked her up for the bet, the bastard.

"He's not shallow at all," Lucy Quinn said. "Since they've passed assumption, they'll now subconsciously gauge attraction. For example, if they fell into step when they left the bar, that could be a strong psychological hint that they're compatible." She frowned. "I wish we could watch them at dinner."

"And see what?" Anthony said, picking up his drink again. "Them eating in unison?"

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "If they mirror each other in action, both crossing their legs the same way, for example. If she accepts his touch with pleasure. If they exchange a copulatory gaze." Anthony choked on his drink.

"It's a look that's held a few seconds too long," Lucy Quinn said. "It's a clear sexual signal. All species do it." Anthony nodded and reminded himself not to stare in the future.

"If their conversation picks up a rhythm with no long silences, that will be attractive. If they develop enough of a relationship to use nicknames."

"Cedes hates nicknames," Anthony said, remembering a disastrous "honey bun" incident.

"If they have the same tastes in music or film. If they establish shared secrets or private jokes. If they value the same things. Is Cedes self-employed?"

"No," Anthony said. "She works for Alliance Insurance. Her father is a vice president there." Lucy Quinn's smile curved across her beautiful face. "Excellent. Sam likes to gamble, so he admires people who take risks. That's why he refused to go into his father's business and started his own company instead. He's not going to be impressed by somebody who's riding her father's coattails. He'll think she's dull."

"That's good," Anthony said. The superficial bastard.

Lucy Quinn nodded over her glass. "Even her attitude will make a difference. Someone who likes you and likes being with you is attractive." She looked woebegone for a moment. "And of course your Cedes will be delighted to be with him."

"No, she isn't," Anthony said, feeling better. "She's mad at all men right now because I broke things off with her. And she's got a sharp tongue."

Lucy Quinn brightened. "So he'll combine her bad temper with his analysis of her as someone who's too conservative. This is sounding very good, Anthony. Will, she let him pay for dinner?"

Anthony shook his head. "Cedes insists on going Dutch. She's a very fair woman."

"Every species has a dinner date as part of courting ritual," Lucy Quinn said. "A woman who won't let you pay for dinner is rejecting your courtship. She may think she's playing fair, or that she's being a feminist, but at a very deep level, she knows that she's crossing you off her list of possibilities."

"She won't let him pay," Anthony said, rethinking his stance on that. When Cedes came back, he was going to pay for dinner.

"So they'll fight over the check. That's wonderful." She sat back, her face relaxed for the first time.

"From what you've told me about her, Sam is already regretting asking her to leave with him."

"That's good," Anthony said, cheering up at the thought.

Lucy Quinn's smile wavered. "So did you want to go to dinner, or did you ask me out just to make Sam mad?"

Dinner. If he took Lucy Quinn to dinner, Hunter and Ryder would tell Sam he and Lucy Quinn had hooked up. That would serve Sam right. He could walk off with the hot blonde who'd dumped the legendary Samuel Evans. He'd win.

He put his drink down. "I asked because I wanted to have dinner with you." Lucy Quinn smiled and he was dazzled. Sam was a fool for letting this woman go.

"And you can tell me more about Cedes," Lucy Quinn said.

"Of course," Anthony said. All about Cedes. Nothing about the bet.

* * *

Cedes had waited outside while the beast went back in to retrieve whatever he'd forgotten—his morals, maybe—and the cooling air of the June night cleared her head and her anger a little. The bar was on one of her favorite streets, full of funky little shops and restaurants and a great revival theater, and a gentle breeze blew through the skinny trees that struggled to grow in their iron cages along the street edge. For a moment, Cedes watched the trees and thought, I know just how you feel. Well, she didn't know the skinny part. But the trapped? Yep.

Because she was stuck, no doubt about it. Stuck dateless in a stupid bridesmaid's dress for her sister's wedding to a dweeb with her mother sighing at her. Because the truth was, she wasn't going to be able to play somebody like Sam Evans for three weeks. It had been a dumb, dumb idea, fueled by rum and rage. For a moment, she wished that she was back in her attic apartment, curled up on her grandmother's old pumpkin-colored sofa, listening to Tupac's _Greatest Hit_ album. Maybe she wasn't the type to date, maybe she should just give in to her well-upholstered genes and become a kindly maiden aunt to Bree's inevitable offspring. It wasn't as if she wanted kids of her own. And what other purpose did men serve?

Well, sex, but look at how they acted about that. Honestly—

A cell phone rang behind her, and she started. When she turned, it was Samuel Evans, back again. He reached in his jacket and took out his phone, the kind that had more bells and whistles than any human being needed, and it confirmed her decision: There was no way in hell she was going to spend three weeks with a soulless hipster just to get a date to Bree's wedding. She'd go Dutch on dinner and then say goodbye forever; that was a plan.

She crossed her arms and waited for him to impress her with a business call, but he turned the phone off. Cedes raised her eyebrows. "What if it's important?"

"The only person I want to talk to is here," he said, smiling that GQ smile at her.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Cedes said. "Can you turn that off, too?"

"Excuse me?" he said, his smile fading.

"The constant line." Cedes began to walk again. "You've got me for dinner. You can relax now."

"I'm always relaxed." He caught up to her in one stride. "Where are we going?" Cedes stopped, and he walked a step past her before he caught himself.

"The new restaurant that everybody's talking about is this way. Serafino's. Somebody I used to know says the chef is making a statement with his cuisine." She thought of Anthony and looked at Sam. Two of a kind. "I assumed that'd be your style. Did you have someplace else in mind?"

"Yes." He put one finger on her shoulder and gave her a gentle push to turn her around, and Cedes shrugged off his touch as she turned. "My restaurant's that way," he said. "Never go any place the chef is trying to talk with food. Unless you want Ser—"

"Nope." Cedes turned around and began to walk again. "I want to check out your taste in restaurants. I'm assuming it'll be like your taste in cell phones: very trendy ."

"I like gadgets," he said, catching up again. "I don't think it's a comment on the real me."

"I've always wanted to do a study on cell phones and personality," Cedes lied as they passed the Gryphon theater. "All those fancy styles and different covers, and then some people refuse to carry them at all. You'd think—"

"Yours is black," he said. "Very practical. Look out for the glass." He reached to take her arm to steer her around a broken beer bottle, but she detoured on her own, rotating away from him. He looked at her feet and stopped, probably faking concern, and she stopped, too. "What?"

"Nice shoes," he said, and she looked down at her frosted-plastic open-toed heels tied with floppy black bows.

"Thank you," she said, taken aback that he'd noticed.

"You're welcome." He put his hands in his pockets and started walking again, lengthening his stride.

"But you're wrong." Cedes took a larger step to catch up. "My cell phone is not black. It's green and it's covered in big white daisies."

"No, it's not." He was walking ahead of her now, not even pretending to keep pace with her, and she broke into a trot until she was even with him. "It's black or silver with a minimum of functions, which is a shame because you never know when you're going to get stuck somewhere and need a good poker game."

When she glanced up at him, he looked so good that she stopped again to make him break stride. The key was to keep him off balance, not gape at his face, especially when he was being so annoyingly right about her black cell phone. "I beg your pardon," she said stiffly, folding her arms again. "I know what my cell phone looks like. It has daisies on it. And I know I'm wearing a suit, but that doesn't mean I'm boring. I'm wearing scarlet underwear."

"No, you aren't." His hands were still in his pockets, and he looked big and broad and cocky as all hell.

"Well, with that kind of attitude, you'll never find out," Cedes said and walked on until she realized he wasn't following her. She turned back and saw him watching her. "Uh, dinner?"

He ambled toward her while she waited for him, and when he was beside her again, he leaned down and said, "I will bet you ten dollars that your cell phone does not have daisies on it."

"I don't gamble," Cedes said, trying not to back up a step.

"Double or nothing you're wearing a plain white bra."

"If you think I'm that boring, what are you doing with me?"

"I saw the bra when you put the twenty in it. And you have conservative taste, so there's no way you have a phone with daisies on it. The only exciting thing about you is your shoes."

Ouch. Cedes scowled. "Hey—"

"And what I'm doing with you," he said, clearly at the end of his patience, "is trying to take you to a great restaurant, which is just up ahead, so if we could call a truce until we're there—" Cedes started to walk again.

"No bet?" he said from behind her.

"No bet." Cedes walked faster, but he caught up with her anyway, with no visible effort, he had long legs, she thought and then kicked herself for thinking about any part of his body. Or the fact that he'd noticed how great her shoes were which was just the kind of thing his kind of guy would do. Think about the bet, she told herself. He's a beast and a gambler.

The beast and gambler stopped in front of a dimly lit storefront window that was covered with green velvet cafe curtains. Above the curtains, RORY's was written in gold script.

"This is the restaurant?" Cedes said, surprised he hadn't picked something flashier.

"Yep." He reached for the door.

"Wait." Cedes squinted at the card on the door. "It closes at ten on weekdays. It must be close to that now. Maybe we should—"

"I'm Rory's favorite customer," he said, pulling the door open. "At least until he meets you."

"Another line?" Cedes said, exasperated.

"No," he said with great and visible patience. "Keep busting my chops all the way through dinner, and Rory will give you a free dessert."

"I thought you were his favorite customer," Cedes said.

"I am," he said. "Doesn't mean he won't appreciate the show. You coming in or not?"

"Yes," Cedes said and walked past him into the restaurant.

* * *

It was a minute and a half by Holly's watch before the bullethead tapped her on the shoulder. "Excuse me," he said, "but I believe you were staring at me."

Holly blinked at him. "That was disbelief. I couldn't believe you were so slow."

"Slow?" He looked insulted. "Nobody could have gotten through that crowd faster than me. I didn't even have blockers."

Holly shook her head. "You spotted me a good hour ago. What did you do, sit down and think about it?" He rolled his eyes.

"I heard redheads were hard to handle." He leaned on the bar. "I'm Hunter. And you owe me."

Okay, here we go, Holly thought, and leaned on the bar, too, mirroring him. "I owe you?"

"Yes." He grinned at her. "Because of chaos theory."

Holly shook her head. "Chaos theory."

He moved closer to her. "Chaos theory says that complex dynamical systems become unstable because of disturbances in their environments after which a strange attractor draws the trajectory of the stress." Holly looked at him, incredulous. "This is your line?"

"I am a complex dynamical system," Hunter said.

"Not that complex," Holly said.

"And I was stable until you caused a disturbance in my environment."

"Not that stable," Holly said.

Hunter grinned. "And since you're the strongest attractor in the room, I followed the trajectory of my stress right to you."

"That's not what you followed to me." Holly turned so that her back was against the bar, her shoulder blocking him. "Give me something better than that, or I'll find somebody else to amuse myself with." From the corner of her eye, she saw the other guy, the vacant-looking one lean down to Marley.

"Is she always like this?" he said to Marley, and Holly turned to size him up. Big. Husky. Boring.

"Well, your friend isn't exactly Prince Charming," Marley said, giving him her best fluttery smile. He beamed back down at her. "Neither am I. Is that okay?"

_Oh, come on_, Holly thought and caught Hunter-the-bullethead's eye.

"He means it," Hunter said. "Ryder has no line."

"After the chaos theory debacle, that's a plus," Holly said.

"Poor baby," Marley was saying as she put her hand on Ryder's sleeve. "Of course, that's okay. I'm Marley."

Ryder looked down at her with naked adoration. "I'm Ryder, and you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life."

Marley's smile widened, and she moved closer to him.

"Which doesn't mean he's bad with women," Hunter said, sounding bemused.

"I am beginning to see his appeal." Holly turned back to Hunter. "What's yours?"

"I'm great in bed," Hunter said.

"Right," Holly said. "You're hopeless, but you can buy me a drink and tell me all about yourself. And your friends."

"Anything you want," Hunter said, and waved to the curly-headed bartender. When she came down the bar, he said, "Hey, Santana, you playing on my side of the street yet?"

The bartender shook her head. "No, but when I do, you'll be the last to know."

"Just so I'm somewhere on the list," Hunter said. "Santana, this is Holly. We need refills all around here."

"You know him?" Holly said to Santana.

"He hangs out with my next-door neighbor," Santana said. "I get him by default because of Sam ."

"Sam?" Holly said, and thought, damn, I could have just asked the bartender about him without picking up this yahoo. Well, I will spend some time later with her and pump her for any information she may know about the beast.

"You don't want to know about Sam," Hunter was saying. "He's no good. Women should stay far away from him."

Santana rolled her eyes and moved away.

"That's interesting," Holly said, smiling at him. "Tell me all about Sam and why he's no good."

"I lied. He's great," Hunter said. "We met in summer school—"

"You went to high school together?" Holly said, taken aback.

"We went to third grade together," Hunter said. "Although why you think this is interesting—"

"I want to know everything about you, sugar," Holly said. "I find you fascinating." Hunter nodded, accepting this as fact. "I was born—"

"You and your friends," Holly said. "So you and Ryder and Sam —" Hunter began to talk, while behind her, she heard Marley say, "You know my mama would like you," and Ryder answer, "I'd love to meet your mother."

Holly jerked her head toward Ryder. "Does he say that to every woman?"

"What?" Hunter said, startled out of his story about being a football star in the third grade.

"Never mind," Holly said. "Let's fast forward to puberty. You and Ryder and Sam ..."

* * *

Sam watched the shock on Cedes' face as she caught the full force of Rory's for the first time, seeing his favorite restaurant in all its funky glory, the wrought-iron chandeliers with the amber flame bulbs, the old black and white photos on the walls, the red and white checked tablecloths on the square tables, the candles in the beat-up Chianti bottles, the hand-lettered menus and mismatched silver. He waited for her lip to curl and then realized it couldn't because her mouth had fallen open. Well, she deserved it for being such a pain in the—

"This is great,''' she said and started to laugh. "My God, how did somebody like you ever find this place?"

"What do you mean, somebody like me?" Sam said.

She walked over to look at the photos of a family for the past eighty years. "Where did they get this stuff?" She smiled, her soft lips parted and her dark eyes alight, and then Rory came up behind him.

"Ah, Mr. Evans," Rory said, and Sam turned to meet his old roommate's glare. "How excellent to see you again."

"Rory," Sam said. "This is Cedes Jones." He turned back to Cedes. "Rory makes the best bread in town."

"I'm sure you make the best everything, Rory," Cedes said, offering him her hand. She looked up at him from under her lashes, and her wide smile quirked wickedly.

Rory cheered up, and Sam thought, _Hey, why didn't I get that_?

Rory clasped her hand. "For you, my bread is poetry. I will bring my bread as a gift to your beauty, a poem to your lovely smile." He kissed the back of her hand, and Cedes beamed at him and did not pull her hand away.

"Rory, Cedes is my date," Sam said. "Enough kissing already." Cedes shook her head at him, with no beam whatsoever. "I'm not anybody's date. We don't even like each other." She turned back to Rory, smiling again. "Separate checks, please, Rory."

"Not separate checks, Rory," Sam said, exasperated beyond politeness. "But a table would be good."

"For you, anything," Rory said to Cedes and kissed her hand again. Unbelievable, Sam thought and kicked Rory on the ankle when Cedes turned to look at the restaurant again. The guy was married to Sugar Motta, and it was her Italian family he based all of his recipes on. He was Irish and trying to act the part of a Latin lover, for Christ's sake.

"Right this way," Rory said, wincing. He showed them to the best table by the window, slid Cedes into a bentwood chair, and then stopped by Sam long enough to say under his breath, "I sent the servers home half an hour ago, you bloody bastard."

"You're welcome," Sam said loudly, nodding to him. Rory gave up and went back to the kitchen, while Sam watched Cedes examine the room in detail.

"It's like an Italian restaurant in the movies," she told Sam. "Except not. I love it. I love Rory, too."

"I noticed," he said. "You're the first woman I ever brought here who was on a kissing basis with him before we sat down."

"Well, he's going to feed me." She picked up her napkin. "That's always a good sign in a man." She spread the napkin in her lap, and then her smile faded and she looked tense again. "Except..." Sam braced himself for her next shot. She leaned forward. "I can't eat bread or pasta, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. Can you order something else?"

"Sure," Sam said, surprised. "Salad. Chicken Marsala, there's no pasta with that."

"Thank you." Cedes smiled at him. "I wouldn't want to ruin his evening."

"I think you just made his evening," Sam said. Her lips were full and soft, and when she smiled her gratitude at him, her face changed from a grim prison warden to warm pretty baby doll, but the wicked glint she'd had in her eyes when she'd flirted with Rory was gone, which was a real shame. Rory brought the bread, and Cedes leaned forward to see it. "Oh, that smells good. I missed lunch so this is wonderful."

"It is good," Sam said. "Rory, we'll have the house salad to start and then the Chicken Marsala."

"Excellent choice, Mr. Evans," Rory said, and Sam knew it was because everything was simple to make. "And a nice red wine to accompany?"

"Excellent," Sam said, knowing they were going to get whatever Rory had left over and open in the kitchen.

"Ice water for me," Cedes said with a sigh, still looking at the bread.

When Rory was gone, Sam said, "The bread's excellent. He makes it here."

"Carbs," Cedes said, her scowl back in place, and Sam had heard enough about carbs in his nine months with Lucy Quinn so he let it drop.

"So," he said, picking up one of the small loaves. "What do you do for a living?" He broke the bread open and the yeasty warmth rose and filled his senses.

"I'm an actuary," Cedes said, the edge back in her voice.

An actuary. He was on a dinner date with a cranky, starving, risk-averse statistician. This was a new low, even for him.

"That's ... interesting," he said, but she was watching the bread and didn't notice. He held half the small loaf out to her. "Eat."

"I can't," she said. "I have this dress I have to fit into three weeks from now."

"One piece of bread won't make that much difference." He waved it, knowing that the smell of Rory's bread had driven stronger Atkins people to their knees.

"No." She closed her eyes and her lips tight, which was useless because it wasn't looking at the bread that was going to bring her down, it was smelling it.

"This might be your only chance to eat Rory's bread," he said, and she took a deep breath.

"Oh, hell." She opened her eyes and took the bread from him. "You really are a beast."

"Who, me?" Sam said and watched her tear off a piece of the bread and bite into it.

"Oh," she breathed, and then she chewed it with her eyes shut, pleasure flooding her face. _Look at me like that,_ he thought, and felt something nudge his shoulder. He looked up to see Rory standing with a half bottle of wine, staring at Cedes. He nodded at Sam and whispered,"Keeper."

Cedes opened her eyes and said, "Rory, you are a genius."

"The pleasure is all mine," Rory said.

Sam took the wine from him. "Thank you, Rory," he said pointedly and Rory shook his head and went back to the kitchen for the salads.

When he'd brought them and was gone again, Sam said, "So you're an actuary."

She looked at him with contempt again. "Please. You don't care what I do. Take the night off, Charm Boy."

"Hey." He picked up his bread. "I don't do this nightly. It's been a while since I picked up anybody."

Cedes looked at her watch as she chewed. She swallowed and said, "It's been twenty-eight minutes."

"Besides you. My last relationship ended a couple of months ago, and I've been enjoying the peace and quiet." She rolled her eyes and he added, "So of course, when I decide to start dating again, I pick up somebody who hates me. What's all the hostility about?"

"Hostility? What hostility?" Cedes stabbed her fork into her salad and tasted it. "God, this is good."

She chewed blissfully, and Sam watched her, trying to figure out what he was doing wrong. She should be liking him. He was charming, damn it. "So what are your interests in life besides great shoes?"

"Oh, please," Cedes said, when she'd swallowed. "You talk. I know why I picked you out, tell me why you picked me."

He stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. "You picked me up?" Cedes shook her head. "I picked you out. I saw you on the landing. Well, my friend Holly saw you first, but she gave you to me."

"Thoughtful of her," Sam said. "So you were expecting me when I showed up?"

"Pretty much." Cedes shoved the bread toward him. "Take this bread basket away from me, I'm making a fool of myself."

He pulled the basket toward his plate. "Then why did you give me such a hard time?"

Cedes snorted. "You think that was a hard time? You must not get much grief from women."

"Well, not in the first five minutes," Sam said. "They save that for the future."

"Yes, but we don't have a future," she said, looking longingly at the bread. "I had to be proactive." Sam pushed the basket back to her.

"Why don't we have a future?" he said, even though he'd come to the same conclusion about thirty seconds after he'd said hello in the bar.

"Because I'm not interested in sex." Cedes tore off another piece of bread and bit into it, and Sam watched while the pleasure spread across her face.

_You lie,_ Sam thought.

"And that means you're not interested in me," Cedes said when she'd finished chewing.

"Hey," he said, insulted. "What makes you think I'm only interested in sex?"

"Because you're a guy." She picked up the bread again. "Statistics show that men are interested in three things: careers, sports, and sex. That's why they love professional cheerleaders."

Sam put his fork down. "Well, that's sexist."

Cedes licked a crumb off her lip, and his irritation evaporated. She was fun to look at when she wasn't scowling: smooth chocolate skin, wide-set dark eyes, a little button nose, and that lush, soft, full, bow-shaped mouth...

"Yes, I know," she said. "But it's true, isn't it?"

"What?" Sam tried to find his place in the conversation. "Oh, the sports and sex thing? Not at all. This is the twenty-first century. We've learned how to be sensitive."

"You have?"

"Sure," Sam said. "Otherwise we wouldn't get laid."

She rolled her eyes, and he picked up the bottle and filled her wineglass.

"I can't," she said. "I had too much to drink at the bar."

He slid her glass closer. "I'll make sure you get home okay."

"And who'll make sure I get away from you okay?" she said and he put the bottle down.

"Okay, that was below the belt," he said, more sharply than he'd intended. She met his eyes, and he thought,_ Oh, hell, here we go again_.

Then she nodded and said, "You're right. You've done nothing to deserve that. I apologize." She frowned as if thinking about something. "In fact, I apologize for the whole night. My boyfriend dumped me about half an hour before you picked me up—"

"Aha," Sam said.

"—and it made me insane with rage. And then I realized that I'm not even sure I liked him anymore and that the person I'm really mad at is me for being so stupid about the whole thing."

"You're not stupid," Sam said. "Making mistakes isn't stupid, it's the way you learn." She squinted at him, looking confused. "Thank you. Anyway, this evening is not your fault. I mean, you have your faults, but you shouldn't pay for his. Sorry."

"That's okay," he said, confused, too. What faults? "Now drink your wine. It's good." She picked up her glass and sipped. "You're right. This is excellent."

"Good, we'll come here often," he said, and then kicked himself because they weren't going anywhere again.

"Another line," Cedes said, without venom. "We're not going anywhere again and you know it. What is it with you? You see a woman and automatically go into wolf mode?"

Sam sat back. "Okay, was that because of the ex-boyfriend, too? Because I'm usually not paranoid, but you are definitely out to get me."

"Don't be a wimp," Cedes said as she tore the bread. "You've got that gorgeous face and a body that makes women go weak at the knees, and then you whine."

Sam grinned at her. "Do I make you go weak at the knees?"

Cedes bit into her bread and chewed. "You did until you whined," she said when she'd swallowed. "Now I know. The magic is gone."

Sam watched her lick her full lower lip, and two months of celibacy plus a lifetime of habit kicked in.

"Give me a chance," he said. "I bet I can get the magic back." She stopped with the tip of her tongue on her lip, and her eyes met his for a long, dark, hot moment, and this time that glint was there, and sound faded to silence, and every nerve he had come alive and said _This one_. Then her tongue disappeared, and he shook his head to clear it and thought, Not in a million years.

"I never bet," Cedes said. "Gambling is a statistically impractical form of generating income."

"It's not a method of generating income," Sam said. "It's a way of life."

"Could we be any more incompatible?" Cedes said.

"Can't see how," Sam said, but then her eyes went past him and he watched while she drew in her breath. Sam turned and saw Rory, this time with a fragrant platter of Chicken Marsala, golden-brown filets and huge braised mushrooms floating in luminous dark wine sauce.

"Oh, my Lord," Cedes said.

Rory beamed at her as he served. "It's a pleasure to serve someone who appreciates food. Taste it." Cedes cut into the chicken and put a forkful in her mouth. She looked startled and then she closed her eyes and began to chew, her face flushed with pleasure. When she'd swallowed, she looked up at Rory, her eyes shining. "This is incredible,'" she said, and Sam thought, _Me, look at me like that._

"Try the mushrooms," Rory said, happy as an Italian by marriage clam.

"Go away," Sam told him, but Rory stayed until Cedes had bitten into one of the huge mushrooms and told him with heartfelt passion that he was a genius.

"Can I get some credit for bringing you here?" Sam said when Rory was gone.

"Yes," Cedes said. "You are a genius at restaurants. Now be quiet so I can concentrate on this."

Sam sighed and gave up on the conversation for the rest of the meal. There was a skirmish at the end when Cedes tried to insist on separate checks, but Sam said, "I invited you, I pay. Back off, woman."

She looked as though she were going to argue for a moment, and then she nodded. "Thank you very much," she told him. "You've given me a lovely meal and a new favorite restaurant," and he felt appreciated for the first time that night.

When they left, she kissed Rory on the cheek. "Your bread is the greatest, Rory, but the chicken is a work of art." Then she kissed him on the other cheek.

"Hey," Sam said. "I'm right here. I paid for the chicken."

"Don't beg," Cedes told him and went out the door.

"Evans, I think you just met your match," Rory said.

"Not even close," Sam said, grateful to be without her for a moment. "This was our first, last, and only date."

"Nope," Rory said. "I saw the way you looked at each other."

"That was fear and loathing," Sam said, opening the door.

"God, you're dumb," Rory said, and Sam ignored him and went out into the dark to find Cedes.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just some good old self-loathing that reproduces self-loathing. My theory is that the mother hates herself so she lives vicariously through one daughter and tries to make the other daughter as miserable as she is. Other than that more insanity that Crusie thought up and I let most of it have a free reign in this chapter. One thing I like is this Mercedes gives back and doesn't hold her feelings inside. Thanks for following, favoriting, and reviewing. Please forgive all my many errors.**

**Chapter Three**

Infatuation is the fun part of falling in love," Lucy Quinn said to Anthony when they were ensconced in Serafino's and the waiter had brought their very expensive filets and departed. Anthony smiled at her and thought, I bet Cedes isn't talking psychology with Sam. God knew what Cedes was doing with Sam. Whatever it was, he was going to have to find a way to stop it.

"Infatuation triggers a chemical in the brain called PEA," Lucy Quinn said. "Your heart races and you get breathless and dizzy, you tremble, and you can't think. It's what most people think of when they think of falling in love, and everybody goes through it." She smiled a lovely, faraway smile. "Our infatuation was wonderful. We couldn't resist each other."

"Hmm." Anthony picked up his blue-frosted margarita glass. "Tell me again how it's not working out for them."

"Well," Lucy Quinn said, "about now, he should be realizing it's time to cut his losses. He'll take her to her car to make sure she's safe, and then he'll shake her hand and say, 'Have a nice life,' and that'll be it."

"What if he was attracted to her?"

"I told you, he wasn't," Lucy Quinn said, but her smile faded. "But if he was, which he wasn't, then he'd ask her out again and look for more cues, more evidence that she's somebody he should love. Like whether his family and friends like her. But she's not Ryder's type, he likes sweet athletic blondes, and I doubt Hunter even saw her since he's pretty much into Hollywood starlets, so it wasn't his friends who prompted him to pick her up."

"Hard to tell what made him do that," Anthony said, trying to sound innocent.

"And she's not going to meet his family, but even if she did, his mother would hate her, his mother disapproves of everything, so that wouldn't be a cue since Sam needs his family to approve of him."

"So you're saying that's all it would take for them to reject each other?" Anthony said. "Friends and family disapproving?"

"Unless she doesn't like her family or wants to rebel against them. Then their disapproval would push her into his arms, but it doesn't sound like that's the case."

"No," Anthony said, thinking of two dinners with Cedes' parents in the past two months. "They're very close."

"Then family and friends are very powerful," Lucy Quinn said. "Which is why I've been nice to Hunter for nine months. But, Anthony, it's not going to happen. Sam is in the mature love and attachment stage with me, which means he won't be attracted to Cedes."

"Mature love. That would be the, uh, the fourth stage," Anthony said, trying to show he'd been listening.

"Right," Lucy Quinn said. "Infatuation doesn't last because it's conditional and conditions change, but if it's real love, it turns into mature, unconditional love, and new chemicals are released in the brain, endorphins that make you feel warm and peaceful and satisfied and content whenever you're with the one you love." She took a deep breath. "And miserable when you're without him because if he's not there, the brain won't produce the chemicals."

"Oh," Anthony said, understanding now. "So you're going through endorphin withdrawal."

"Temporarily," Lucy Quinn said, her chin up. "He'll be back. He's going without sex, which is a pain, a physiological cue to deepen his attachment to me."

"Pain," Anthony said, thinking anything that hurt Sam was a good idea.

Lucy Quinn nodded. "In order to move from infatuation to attachment, Sam will have to feel joy or pain when he's with Cedes. The joy could be a great conversation or great sex, the pain could be jealousy, frustration, fear, almost anything that adds stress. The pain cue is the reason there are so many wartime romances. And office romances."

"Right," Anthony said, remembering an intern from his earlier years.

"But I don't think that's going to happen tonight. I think he's going to be bored. I must say that it's a great comfort to know that your Cedes is dull and frigid."

"I didn't say she was dull and frigid," Anthony said. "I wouldn't date somebody who was dull and frigid."

"Then you should have stuck it out," Lucy Quinn said. "Infatuation lasts anywhere from six months to three years, and you can't know you've found the right person until you've worked your way through it. You quit at two months so you couldn't have reached attachment and neither could she." She shrugged.

"I made a mistake. Six months to three years?" Anthony said. "And you pushed Sam after nine months?" He shrugged. "You made a mistake."

Lucy Quinn put down her fork. "Not a mistake. I know Sam, I have written articles on Sam, and he is in the attachment stage, we both are."

Anthony stopped eating, appalled. "You wrote about your lover?"

"Well, I didn't call him by his real name," Lucy Quinn said. "And I didn't say he was my lover."

"Isn't that unethical?"

"No." Lucy Quinn pushed her plate away, most of her dinner was untouched. "That's how we met. I'd heard about him through a couple of my clients. He had quite a reputation."

"I know," Anthony said, thinking vicious thoughts about Sam Evans, _God's Gift to Women_. "Totally undeserved."

"Are you kidding?" Lucy Quinn said. "I was studying him, and he got me." Her mouth curved again. "Nature gave him that face and body, and his parents gave him conditional affection as a child. He's been trained to please people to get approval, and the people he likes to please most are women, who are more than willing to be pleased by him because he looks the way he does. So his looks guarantee assumption and his charm guarantees attraction. He's one of the most elegant adaptive solutions I've ever observed. The papers I wrote on him got a lot of attention."

Anthony tried to picture Sam Evans as a child, trying to earn affection. All he could come up with was a good-looking tow-haired kid in a tuxedo, leaning on a swing set and smiling confidently at little girls.

"Did he know you wrote papers on him?"

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "He still doesn't. He never will. I finished that work, it's over. I'm writing a book now, already under contract. It's almost done." She smiled a satisfied feline smile. "The point is, I'm not some silly woman moaning, 'But I thought he loved me,' I have clinical proof he does love me. And he'll come back to me soon, as long as your Cedes doesn't distract him."

"So," Anthony said, leaning closer. "If we wanted to make sure they didn't get to—what was it? Attraction?—what would we do?"

Lucy Quinn's hazel eyes widened. "Do?" She put her wineglass down and thought about it. "Well, I suppose we could talk to their friends and families, poison the well, so to speak. And we could offer them joy in different forms to counteract whatever happens between them. But that wouldn't be ... Anthony, we don't have to do anything. Sam loves me."

"Right," Anthony said, sitting back. _Family_, he thought. _I have an in with the family_.

Lucy Quinn smiled at him. "I'm tired of talking about them," she said. "What is it that you do for a living?"

Anthony thought it's about time we got to me. He said, "I'm in software development," and watched her eyes glaze over.

* * *

Outside Rory's, Cedes took a deep breath of summer night air and thought, _I'm happy. Evidently, great food was an antidote to rage and humiliation. Good to know for the future._

Then Sam came out and said, "Where's your car?" and broke her mood.

"No car," Cedes said. "I can walk it." She held out her hand. "Thank you for a lovely evening. Sort of. Good-bye."

"No," Sam said, ignoring her hand. "Which way is your place?"

"Look," Cedes said, exasperated. " I can walk—"

"In the city alone at night? No, you can't. I was raised better than that. I'm walking you home, and there's nothing you can do about it, so which way are we going?"

Cedes thought about arguing with him, but there wasn't much point. Even one short evening with Samuel Evans had taught her that he got what he wanted. "Okay. Fine. Thank you very much. It's this way." She started off down the street, listening to the breeze in the trees and the muted street noises, and Sam fell into step beside her, the sound of his footfalls matching the click of her heels in a nice rhythm.

"So what is it you do for a living?" she asked.

"I run a business seminar group with two partners."

"You're a teacher?" Cedes said, surprised.

"Yes," he said. "So you're an actuary. I have a great deal of respect, for your profession. You do it for money. I do it for recreation."

"Do what?"

"Figure out whether something's a good bet or not." He looked down at her. "You're a gambler. You do it with millions of dollars of an insurance company's money. I do it with ten-dollar bills."

"Yeah, but I don't lose any of my own money," Cedes said.

"Neither do I," Sam said.

"You win every bet?" Cedes said, disbelief making her voice flat.

"Pretty much," Sam said.

"Hell of a guy," Cedes said. "Is that why you went into business for yourself? So you could control the risk?"

"No, I just didn't want to work for anybody else," Sam said. "That didn't leave me any other options."

"We turn here," Cedes said, slowing as they came to the corner. "Look, I can—"

"Keep walking," Sam said, and Cedes did.

"So what's the name of this company?"

"Evans, Clarington, Lynn."

"Lynn and Clarington being the other two guys on the landing with you," Cedes said. "The chilled out one and the bull—uh, the jock-looking one."

"Yeah." Sam grinned. "Bull?"

"One of my friends mentioned his head looked like a bullet," Cedes said, wincing. "She meant it as a compliment."

"Bet she did," Sam said. "That would be the redhead, right?"

"You noticed her," Cedes said, and felt a twinge.

"No, the bullet-head noticed her," Sam said.

"Don't tell him she said that," Cedes said. "She wouldn't want to hurt his feelings."

"It takes a lot to bring Hunter down," Sam said. "But I won't mention it."

"Thank you."

The farther they got from the busier streets, the darker it became, even with the streetlights, and Cedes began to feel grateful he was there. "So why do people hire you to teach? I mean, you specifically. Instead of somebody else."

"We tailor the programs," Sam said. "In any instructional situation, a certain percentage of the student population will fail to master the material. We guarantee one hundred percent and we stay until it's achieved."

"That sounds like promotional literature."

"It's also the truth."

"And you do this how?" Cedes said. "Charming them?"

"What have you got against charming?" Sam said.

"It so rarely goes hand in hand with 'honest,' " Cedes said.

Sam sighed. "People shut down because of fear. The first thing we do is analyze the students to find out who's afraid and how they're coping with it. Some of them freeze up, so we put them with Ryder. Very gentle guy, Ryder. He can reassure anybody into learning anything."

"That's a little creepy," Cedes said, trying to picture Ryder as one of those slick self-help gurus.

"You are a very suspicious woman," Sam said. "Then some people hide their fear in wisecracks, disrupting the class. Hunter takes them. They joke around together until everybody's relaxed."

"And who do you get?" Cedes said.

"I get the angry ones," Sam said. "The ones who are mad that they're scared."

"And you charm them out of it," Cedes said.

"Well, I wouldn't put it that way, but yes, I suppose that's one interpretation."

_The angry ones_. They walked on in silence, their footsteps echoing together. Cedes looked up at him. "You must have felt right at home with me tonight."

"Nope," Sam said. "You're not mad because you're scared. I doubt that much scares you. You're mad because somebody was lousy to you. And there's not enough charm in the world to get you out of that until you've resolved the deeper issue."

"And yet you kept on trying," Cedes said.

"No, I didn't," Sam said. "Once you'd told me you'd been dumped, I backed off." Cedes thought about it. "I guess you did. Pretty much."

"Now aren't you sorry you were such a grump all night?" Sam said.

"No," Cedes said. "Because you were pouring on the charm before that which means you were trying to get something from me, God knows what—"_ Sex to win a bet, you beast._ "—and you deserved to be called on that."

A few steps later Sam said, "Fair enough."

Cedes smiled to herself in the darkness and thought, Well, he does have an honest bone in his body. Too bad its just one. They walked on in silence until they reached the steps to her house. "This is it. Thank you very much—"

"Where?" Sam said, looking around. "I don't see a house."

"Up there," Cedes said, pointing up the hill. "The steps are right there. So we can—" Sam peered up the hill into the darkness. "Christ, woman, that looks like Everest. How many steps are there?"

"Thirty-two," Cedes said, "and another twenty-six after that to get up to my apartment in the attic." She held out her hand. "So we'll say goodnight here. Thank you for the walk home. Best of luck in the future."

He ignored her to look up the hill again. "Nope. I'm not leaving you to climb up there in the dark."

"It's okay," Cedes said. "Seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked are attacked by men they know."

"Is that another shot at me?" Sam said.

"No. I don't know any men who would climb thirty-two steps to attack me, so I'm safe. You can go home with a clear conscience."

"No," he said patiently. "I can't. Get moving. I'll be right behind you."

_Behind her? Thirty-two steps with him looking at her butt?_ "No, you won't."

"Look, it's late, I'm tired, can we just—"

"It'll be a cold day in hell when you follow me up those steps. You want to go up, you go first."

"Why?" he said, mystified.

"You're not looking at my rear end all the way up that hill."

He shook his head. "You know, Jones, you look like a sane person, and then you open your mouth—"

"Start climbing or go home," Cedes said.

Sam sighed and took the first step. "Wait a minute. Now you'll be looking at my butt all the way up the steps."

"Yes, but you probably have a decent butt," Cedes said. "It's an entirely different dynamic."

"I can't even see yours," Sam said. "It's dark and your jacket is too long."

"Climb or leave," Cedes said, and Sam started up the steps.

When they got to the top, he hesitated, and she saw the mid-century stone and stucco house through his eyes, dark and shabby and overgrown with climbing rosebushes that were so ancient they'd degenerated into thornbushes. "It's nice," she said, on the defensive.

"It's probably great in the daytime," he said, politely.

"Right." Cedes pushed past him to climb the stone steps to the front porch. She unlocked the door. "There, see? You can go now."

"This is not your door," he said. "You said you live twenty-six steps up."

"Fine, climb all the way to the attic." She waved him in front of her into the square hall of the house. With him there, the faded blue wallpaper and dull oak woodwork looked shabby instead of comfortable, and that irritated her. "Up," she said, pointing to the narrow stairway along one wall, looking even narrower now that he was at the bottom with what looked like several yards of shoulder blocking her way, and he climbed two more flights of stairs to the narrow landing with her following. He had a great butt.

And that's all that's nice about him, Cedes told herself. Be sensible, keep your head here. You're never going to see him again.

"Well, at least you know anybody who walks you home twice is serious about you," he said, as he reached the top.

He turned as he said it, and Cedes, still two steps down scoping out his rear end, walked into his elbow and clipped herself hard over the eye, knocking herself enough off balance that she tripped back, grabbed the railing, and sat down on the step.

"Oh, Christ," he said. "I'm sorry." He bent over her and she warded him off.

"No, no," she said. "My fault. Following too close." _Ouch_, she thought, gingerly feeling the place he'd smacked her. _That's what you get for being shallow and objectifying the beast_.

"Just let me see it," he said, trying to look into her eyes. He put his hand gently on the side of her face to tip her chin up.

"No." She brushed his hand away as her skin started to tingle. "I'm fine. Aside from being part of the seventy-eight percent of women who are attacked by—"

"Oh, cut me a break," he said, straightening. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." She stood up again and detoured around him to unlock her door. "You can go now."

"Right." He picked up her hand and shook it once. "Great to meet you, Jones. Sorry about the elbow to the head. Have a nice life."

"Oh, I'm going to," Cedes said. "I'm giving up men and getting a dog." She slipped inside and shut the door in his face before he could say anything else. Have a nice life. Who is he kidding?

She turned on her grandmother's china lamp by the door, and her living room sprang into shabby but comforting view. The light on her machine was blinking, and she went over and pressed the button, and then rubbed her temple while she listened.

"Cedes, I tried calling your cell phone and it kept going to voicemail. I don't know if it's charged," her sister's voice said. "Just wanted to make sure you didn't forget the fitting tomorrow. It'll be nice to see you." Bree sounded a little woebegone, which was not like her, and Cedes replayed the message to hear her again. Something was wrong.

"The Jones girls cannot win," she said and thought about Samuel Evans. She went over to her battered mantel and looked over the snow globes lined up there into the tarnished mirror that had once hung in her grandmother's hall. A plain round face, dark super curly hair, that's what Sam Evans had looked at all night. And now it had a nice bruise. She sighed and picked up the snow globe Marley had given her for Christmas, Cinderella and her prince on the steps of their blue castle, doves flying overhead. Sam Evans would look right at home on those steps. She, on the other hand, would be asked to try the servant's entrance. "Just not the fairy tale type," she said and put the globe down to go turn on her iPod, hitting the up button until Tupac started to rap "F all yall."

"And that's to Anthony Rashad and Samuel Evans, too," she told herself and went to put arnica on her bruise and take a hot bath to wash the memory of the evening away. At least the part with Anthony in it. There were some moments after Anthony that weren't entirely horrible.

But she definitely wasn't going to see Samuel Evans again.

* * *

When Sam got to work the next morning, the sun was shining through the tall windows in the loft office, the smell of coffee permeated the room, Ryder waved to him from his desk by the window, and Elvis Costello was singing "The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes" on the speakers. All right, Sam thought. He dropped a folder on the frosted glass desktop, poured himself a cup of coffee, and pulled out his Aeron chair, ready to make the world a better place for people trapped in business training seminars.

Hunter came through the door and slapped him on the back. "Nice going last night. Tell me you won."

"What are you talking about?" Sam said.

"The bet with Anthony," Hunter said. "The one about the gray-checkered suit. Tell me you won it."

"Sure." Sam dropped into his desk chair. "You saw me leave with her."

"You're right, you're right, I should have had faith. You want to tell Anthony or should I?"

"Tell him what?" Sam turned on his Mac and hit the get message button for his e-mail.

"That you had sex with the suit," Hunter said.

"What?" Sam said, squinting at the screen while Elvis sang backup to his morning. "Of course I didn't."

"Oh." Hunter nodded. "Well, you've still got a month."

"Hunter," Sam said as the list of messages showed up in the window. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm positive it's wasting my time."

"Anthony bet you that you couldn't get the suit into bed in a month," Hunter was saying with obvious patience.

"I could use the money, too, so if you'd—"

"No," Sam said. "I did not make that bet."

"Anthony thinks you made the bet," Hunter said.

"No, he doesn't," Sam said. "Now that he's sober he does not think that he bet me ten thousand dollars on whether or not I could get a strange woman into bed. Now could we get some work done? There's money in it for you. They pay us to do this stuff."

He slid the folder on his desk across to Hunter, who picked it up and leafed through it. "Piece of cake," he said, and began to move away. "Oh, just so you know, Lucy Quinn left with Anthony last night."

"Good for them." Sam turned back to his e-mail.

"This doesn't bother you?" Hunter said.

"Why are you harassing me this morning?" Sam said, putting an edge on his voice.

"I just want to make sure you're not going back to her," Hunter said. "My future is on the line here."

"How?" Sam said.

"Well, you'll get married first," Hunter said, coming back to sit on the corner of Sam's desk. "You always do everything first. And then Ryder will get married and you'll both move to the suburbs. And Ryder is going to marry somebody as uptight as he is, which means I'll have to live with you, and since Lucy Quinn never did like me, she'd be a problem to convince on that."

"So would I," Sam said. "Get off my desk."

"It wouldn't be with you, not in the house," Hunter said. "I figure a nice apartment over the garage. It'd be convenient for you. You could come over and watch the game and get drunk and not have to drive home. And I could babysit the kids when you and the wife wanted to go out."

"First," Sam said, "I'm not getting married, so forget the wife. Second, if I was insane enough to get married, I wouldn't have kids. Third, if I was insane enough to get married and have kids, it would be a cold day in hell I'd let you babysit."

"Well, we'll both have matured by then," Hunter said. "I wouldn't let me babysit now, either."

"I'm getting married first," Ryder said.

They both turned to him, and he smiled back in the sunlight from the big loft windows.

"I'm going to marry Marley," Ryder said.

Sam frowned at him. "Who's Marley?"

"The pretty blonde he met last night," Hunter said, disgust in his voice.

"Her name is Marley," Ryder said, his voice like ice, and both Sam and Hunter straightened.

"He's serious," Sam said to Hunter. "What happened?"

"The redhead wanted me," Hunter said. "So I went over. And Ryder followed and hooked up with the pret.. . with Marley. And sometime between then and now he lost his mind." He shook his head at Ryder.

"This is a woman you've known for less than twelve hours. It took you a year to pick out a couch, but you're serious—"

"Yes," Ryder said. "She's the one."

"Maybe," Sam said, thinking, The hell she is. "You didn't tell her that, though. Right?"

"No," Ryder said. "I thought it was too soon."

"You think?" Hunter said. "Jesus."

"I'm going to marry her," Ryder said, "so stop yelling and get used to it. She's perfect."

"No woman is perfect," Hunter said. "Which is why we must keep looking. You going to see her tonight?"

"No," Ryder said. "They have some Thursday night thing they do every other week. Marley called it their 'If Dinner.'"

"They?" Hunter said.

Ryder nodded. "Marley, Holly, and Cedes."

"Who's Cedes?" Hunter said, lost again.

"The one I'm not going to sleep with," Sam said. If Marley was anything like Cedes, Ryder was in big trouble.

"You seeing Marley on Friday?" Hunter said to Ryder, sticking to the basics. Ryder nodded. "She said they'll be at The Long Shot. It's not their regular hangout, but she said she'd look for me there. And she's coming to the game Saturday. And we might go to dinner on Saturday night."

"She's coming to watch you coach a kid's baseball game?" Sam said. "She must love you a lot."

"Not yet," Ryder said. "But she will."

"Friday," Hunter said, ignoring them. "That's good. I can hit on Holly, and Sam can move on the suit."

"No," Sam said.

Ryder looked sympathetic. "What happened?"

Sam went back to his computer. "She's a conservative, antigambling actuary who spent dinner bitching at me. Then I took her home, climbed fifty-eight steps to her apartment to make sure she didn't get mugged and elbowed her in the eye. It was the worst date of my life, and I'm sure it was in her bottom five."

"You hit her?" Hunter said.

"By accident," Sam said. "I'd send flowers to apologize, but she's anticharm, too. It's over. Move on."

"So you're going to give up on another one," Hunter said, shaking his head.

Sam looked up at him, annoyed. "Now tell me about your deep and lasting relationships."

"Yes, but that's me," Hunter said. "I'm shallow."

"Marley lives on the first floor of that house," Ryder said, as if they hadn't spoken, "so I just had to make the first thirty-two steps. And then she felt bad for me, so she invited me in for coffee. I can get used to the steps."

"Does that mean Holly lives on the second floor?" Hunter said.

"No, Holly lives over on Pennington," Ryder said. "She moves every year to a new place, about the time she changes jobs. Marley says Holly likes change."

Sam looked at Hunter. "You didn't walk her home?"

"She ditched me while I was in the john," Hunter said. "I think she's playing hard to get."

"Sounds like Cedes," Sam said, going back to the computer. "Except I don't think she's playing."

"Marley and I walked Holly home," Ryder said. "It was nice. It gave me more time with Marley."

"Jesus, Ry, pull yourself together," Hunter said.

"You're serious about this?" Sam said, turning back to Ryder.

"Yes."

Sam saw the determination on his face. "Congratulations," he said, deciding to check Marley out. "Wait a month to propose. You don't want to scare her."

"That's what I thought," Ryder said.

"You're both nuts," Hunter said.

"We're all going to be unemployed if we don't get to work," Sam said. "Start with the Batchelder refresher."

"Marley says Cedes is great," Ryder said. "She looked nice."

"Cedes is not nice," Sam said. "Cedes is mad at the world and taking it out on whatever guy is standing next to her. Now about the Batchelder refresher—"

"Are you sure Anthony knows there's no bet?" Hunter said.

"Positive," Sam said. "I'm never seeing that woman again. Now about the Batchelder refresher ..."

* * *

At half-past four that afternoon, Cedes walked into the ivory moire-draped fitting room of the city's best bridal emporium, well aware she was late and not caring much. Her mother was probably so absorbed in harassing Bree and the fitter that—

"You're late," Janette Jones said. "The appointment was for four."

"I work." Cedes crossed the thick gold carpet and detoured around the dark-haired bundle of exasperation that had given birth to her, dropping her jacket on an ivory-upholstered chair. "That means the insurance company gets first dibs on my time. If you want me here on the dot, schedule this for after work."

"That's ridiculous," Janette said. "Your dress is in the second dressing room. The fitter is with Bree and the other girls. Give me your blouse, you'll just drop it on the floor in there." She held out one imperious, French-manicured hand, and Cedes sighed and took off her blouse.

"Oh, Cedes," her mother said, her voice heavy with unsurprised contempt. "Wherever did you get that bra?"

Cedes looked down at her underwear. Plain cotton, but perfectly respectable. "I have no idea. Why?"

"White cotton," Janette said. "Honestly, Cedes, plain cotton is like plain vanilla—"

"I like plain vanilla."

"—there's no excitement there at all."

Cedes blinked. "I was at work. There's never any excitement."

"I'm talking about men," Janette said. "You're thirty-three. Your prime years are past you, and you're wearing white cotton."

"I was at work," Cedes said, losing patience.

"It doesn't matter." Her mother shook out Cedes' blouse, checked the label, saw it was silk, and looked partly mollified. "If you're wearing white cotton lingerie, you'll feel like white cotton, and you'll act like white cotton, and white cotton cannot get a man, nor can it keep one. Always wear lace."

"You'd make a nice pimp," Cedes said and headed for the dressing room.

"Mercedes," her mother said.

"Well, I'm sorry." Cedes stopped and turned around. "But honestly, Mother, this conversation is getting old. I'm not even sure I want to get married, and you're critiquing my underwear because it's not good enough bait. Can't you—"

Janette lifted her chin, and her jawline became even tauter. "This is the kind of attitude that's going to lose Anthony."

Cedes took a deep breath. "About Anthony ..."

"What?" Her mother's body tensed beneath her size four Dana Buchman suit. "What about Anthony?"

Cedes smiled cheerfully. "We're no longer seeing each other."

"Oh, Cedes," Janette wailed, clutching Cedes' blouse to her bosom, the picture of despair in the middle of a lot of expensive gold and ivory decor.

"He wasn't right for me, Mother," Cedes said.

"Yes," Janette said, "but couldn't you have kept him until after the wedding?"

"Evidently not," Cedes said. "Let's cut to the chase. What do I have to do to keep you from mentioning his name ever again?"

"Wear lace."

"That will get you off my back?"

"For a while."

Cedes grinned at her and headed for the dressing room door. "You are a piece of work."

"So are you, darling," Janette said, surveying her eldest. "I'm very proud of you, you know. You have a blotch of makeup over your eye. What is that?"

"Oh, for crying out loud." Cedes closed the door behind her. She unzipped her skirt, let it fall to the gold carpet, and studied herself in the gold-framed mirror. "You're not that bad," she told herself, not convinced. "You just have to find a man who likes very healthy women." She unclipped the long lavender skirt from the gold hanger and stepped into it, being careful not to rip the knife-pleated chiffon ruffle at the bottom, and sucked in her stomach to get it buttoned. Then she shrugged on the lavender chiffon blouse and buttoned the tiny buttons, stretching the fabric tightly across her bust so that her white bra showed at the corners of the low, squared bodice. She shook out the sleeves, and the chiffon fell over her hands in wide double ruffles that she would drag through everything at the reception. The blouse also erupted around her hips in more ruffles at the side.

"Oh, yes," she said."More width at the hip. Can't ever get enough of that."

Then she picked up the corset, a blue and lavender watercolor moire tied with lavender ribbons. The fabric had been so beautiful when Bree had chosen it six months before that Cedes had hired the seamstress to make a comforter for her bed with it, and she looked at the narrow corset now and thought, I'm going to have to wear the comforter. This is never going to fit. She took a deep breath and wrapped the corset around her. It shoved her breasts up to a dizzying height and then failed to meet in the middle by almost two inches. Carbs. She thought vicious thoughts about Sam Evans and Rory's bread. Then she tried to smooth out the extra foundation without showing the bruise and went out into the dressing room to face her mother.

Instead, she found Bree, standing on the fitting platform in front of the huge, gold-framed mirror, flanked by her two lovely bridesmaids, the women Holly called Wet and Worse, while the Dixie Chicks played on Bree's cell phone.

"'Ready to Run,'" Cedes said to Bree. "And so not appropriate."

"Hmmm?" Bree said, staring into the mirror. "No, it's from the movie Runaway Bride."

"Right," Cedes said, remembering that Bree had decided to score her wedding to music from Julia Roberts' movies. Well, at least it was a plan.

"I loved that movie," Kitty said. She looked blond, bilious, miserable, and, well, wet in corseted green chiffon, the loser in the bridesmaid dress lottery.

"I thought it was ridiculous," dark-haired Rachel, a.k.a. Worse, said, looking sophisticated and superior in corseted blue chiffon.

Cedes waved her hand at Worse. "Scoot over so I can see my sister." Worse moved, and Cedes got her first look at Bree. "Wow."

Bree looked like a fairy tale come to life in ivory chiffon and satin. Her dark curling hair fell from an artfully messy knot into pearl-strewn tendrils around her pretty face and her neck rose gracefully above the perfect expanse of skin revealed by a very low, square-necked bodice identical to the one flashing Cedes' white bra. Her neckline had chiffon ruffles cascading over the beaded ivory corset that cinched her slim waist, and more ruffles fell from her wrists and flowed out from under the corset, parting to reveal a straight skirt flounced with more ruffles along the side like panniers and ending in a knife-pleated border that touched the toes of her satin buckled pumps. She turned on the platform to look into the mirror and Cedes saw the bustle of gathered chiffon at the base of her spine that erupted in more and more ruffles and pleats until the back of the dress took on a life of its own, quivering when Bree moved.

"What do you think?" Bree said, no expression at all on her face.

I think you look like a sex-crazed princess on heroin, Cedes thought, but she said, "I think you look beautiful," because that was true, too.

"You look gorgeous," Worse said, straightening Bree's skirt, which didn't need straightening.

"Uh huh," Wet said. Cedes wanted to feel sorry for her—it couldn't be easy watching your best friend marry your ex-boyfriend, especially when you looked like hell in green—but Wet was so spineless that it was hard to sympathize.

"It wouldn't do for a morning wedding," Bree said, touching the ribbon bow at her breasts. "It wouldn't work for the evening, either. But my wedding is at dusk. That's magic time. It changes everything."

"You look like magic," Cedes said, hearing the same strain in Bree's voice that she'd heard on her answering machine the night before. "Are you all right?"

Bree turned back to the mirror. "You wouldn't be caught dead in this, would you?"

"If I looked like you, I might."

Worse surveyed Cedes from head to toe, taking in the bursting corset and white bra along the way. "It's not Cedes' style."

"You think?" Cedes said. "Because I was going to wear the corset to the office when this whole deal was done. Could I talk to my sister alone for a minute, please?"

Worse raised her eyebrows, but Wet escaped into the dressing rooms gladly, and when Cedes folded her arms and stared, Worse gave up and left, too.

"What's going on?" Cedes asked Bree, as the Dixie Chicks finished and Martina McBride began to sing the impossibly chipper "I Love You."

"Nothing," Bree said, watching herself in the mirror. "Well, the cake, we're having problems with the cake, but everything else is perfect."

"Is it Jake?" Cedes said, thinking, I wouldn't want to marry a wimp no matter how handsome he was. If she ever got married, it'd be to somebody with an edge, somebody who'd be smart and funny and interesting forever—

"Jake is perfect," Bree said, fluffing the ruffles that somehow made her hips look slimmer.

"Oh, good," Cedes said. "What about the cake?"

"The cake..." Bree cleared her throat. "The cake didn't get ordered in time."

"I thought Jake knew this great baker," Cedes said.

"He does," Bree said. "But he ... forgot, and now it's too late, so I have to find a new baker."

"Who can do a huge art cake for three weeks from now?"

"It's not Jake's fault," Bree said. "You know men. They're not dependable on stuff like that. It was my fault for not checking."

"Not all men are undependable," Cedes said. "I met a real beast last night, but he'd have gotten that cake."

"Well, Jake isn't a beast," Bree said. "I'd rather have a good man who forgets cakes than a beast who remembers them."

"Good point," Cedes said. "Look, I'll find you a cake. It's the least I can do to make up for my screwups."

Bree gave up on her ruffles and turned around. "What's wrong? You're not a screwup. What's the matter?"

"I lost Anthony, and I'm too fat for this corset thing," Cedes said, holding up the ribbon ends.

"You're not fat," Bree said, but she stepped down off the platform. "They probably sent the wrong size. Let me see."

Cedes untied the corset and handed it over and then watched as Bree flipped it inside out with expert hands.

"What happened with Anthony?" Bree said as she frowned at the tag.

"I wouldn't sleep with him so he left."

"What a dumbass." Bree looked up, mystified. "You know, this is an eight, it should fit."

"In what universe?" Cedes said, outraged. "I wasn't an eight at birth. Who ordered this thing?"

"I did," Janette said from behind her. "I assumed you'd be losing weight for your sister's wedding. You're still on your diet, aren't you?"

"Yes," Cedes said, biting the word off as she turned to face her mother. "But let's be realistic here. You bought a blouse that fit." She looked down to where the tiny buttons stood at attention as they crossed her bustline. "Sort of. Why not—"

"You've had a year," her mother said, clutching a lot of lace from the lingerie department. "I thought the corset could cinch you in if you missed your target by a few pounds, but you've had plenty of time to lose that weight."

Cedes took a deep breath and popped the button on her skirt. "Look, Mother, I am never going to be thin. I take after dad's grandmother from South Carolina who was Gullah. He always told us that she was dark as the night and her width and height were the same sizes. Get over it."

"You're half me," Janette said, "which gives you no excuses, you only want to eat carbs like your daddy; he and his rice fixation. You're just eating too much to rebel against me."

"Mother, sometimes it's not about you," Cedes snapped as she held her skirt together. "Sometimes it's genetics."

"Not your loud voice, dear," her mother said and turned to Bree as she held up the corset. "We'll just have to tie it tighter."

"Good idea," Cedes said. "Then when I pass out at the altar, you can point out how thin and almost dead I am."

"Mercedes, this is your sister's wedding," Janette said. "You can sacrifice a little."

"It's okay, it's okay," Bree said, holding out her hands. "There's time to have one made in Cedes' size. Everything will be fine."

"Oh, good." Cedes stepped up on the platform to look at herself in the trifold mirror. She looked like the blowsy barmaid who worked in the inn behind the castle, the one who'd trash-picked one of the princess' castoffs. "This is so not me."

"It's a great color for you, Cedes," Bree said softly as she came to stand behind her on the platform, and Cedes leaned back so their shoulders touched.

"You're going to be the most amazing bride," she told Bree. "People are going to gasp when they see you."

"You, too," Bree said and squeezed Cedes' shoulder.

Yeah, when my corset explodes and my breasts hit the minister.

"What happened to your eye?" Bree said in Cedes's ear, low enough so that Janette couldn't hear.

"The beast hit me last night," Cedes said, and then when Bree straightened she added, "I walked into his elbow. Not his fault."

"That's the wrong bra for that dress," Janette said from behind them.

"You're not by any chance my stepmother are you?" Cedes said to her mother's reflection. "Because that would explain so much."

"Here, darling," Janette said and handed her five different colored lace bras. "Go in there and put one of these on and bring me that cotton thing. I'm going to burn it."

"What cotton thing?" Bree said.

"I'm wearing a plain white bra," Cedes told her as she stepped off the platform, her hands full of lace.

Bree widened her eyes and looked prim. "Well, you're going to hell."

"Bree," Janette said.

"I know," Cedes said as she headed for the dressing room. "That's where all the best men are."

"Mercedes," Janette said. "Where are you going?"

"It's Thursday," Cedes said, over her shoulder. "I'm meeting Holly and Marley for dinner, and I don't want to talk about my underwear anymore." She stopped in the doorway to the dressing room. "Order the bigger corset in a size twelve which is my target size and I have been bigger Mother—and we'll try this again when it comes in."

"No carbs," her mother called after her as she went into the dressing room. "And no butter."

"I know you stole me from my real mother," Cedes called back. "She'd let me eat butter." Then she shut the door behind her before Janette could tell her to avoid sugar, too.


	4. Chapter 4 Part 1

**A/N: These next two chapters were super long almost 10,000 words a piece, so I broke them up into Parts 1 and 2. There's no Lucy Quinn or Anthony or Janette in this part, so no trigger warnings. Thanks again for loving on and supporting this story. A little OC Santana is ahead but I tried to intertwine Glee with the original work to make it sorta true to her. Standard disclaimer as always. If you are looking for a new story to read, please check out **Everything by arwenforlife.

**Chapter Four-Part 1**

When Sam got home from work, he flipped on the white overhead light, kicked off his shoes, and went into the white galley kitchen behind the white breakfast bar to pour himself a Glenlivet. Even as he poured, Elvis Costello blared out in the next apartment, reverberating "She" through the wall.

"Oh, Christ," Sam said and put his glass on his forehead. Santana's rocky romance must have crashed. He tossed back the drink and went to pound on her door.

When Santana opened the door, her pretty face was tear-stained under her tangled mop of soft kinky hair. "Hi, Sam," she said and sniffed. "Come on in."

He followed her into the technicolor version of his apartment, wincing until she'd turned Elvis down to a reasonable volume. "Tell me about it."

"It was awful," she said, going to her bright red bookcase to get the bottle of Glenlivet she kept for him.

"I just had one," he said, warding her off.

"I thought this was it." Santana changed course to the big old couch she'd covered with a purple Indian bedspread. "I thought it was forever."

"You always think it's forever." Sam sat down beside her and put his arm around her. "Who was it this time? I lost track."

"Dani," Santana said, her face crumpling again.

"Right." Sam put his feet on the ancient trunk she used for a coffee table. "Dani the witch. You know, maybe you should try dating for fun instead. Or take a break, that's what I—"

"Dani was fun," Santana said.

"Dani was a humorless pain in the ass," Sam said. "Why you always fall for women who make you feel less than because you are working in a bar while trying to make it is as a singer is beyond me."

Santana looked at him with watery contempt. "You always date women who make you want to run away."

"This is not about me," Sam said as Elvis finished with a last big, "She!" and began again; Santana had put him on repeat. "You have to get a new breakup song."

"I love this song," Santana said.

"I used to like it," Sam said. "But that was many months ago before you bashed me over the head with it every time your latest disaster left. You're ruining Elvis Costello."

"Nobody can ruin Elvis. Elvis is everything," Santana said.

"Isn't Dani the one who hated Elvis?" Sam said.

"No, that was Jane," Santana said. "Although Dani wasn't a fan, either."

"Well, there it is," Sam said. "Play Elvis on the first date, and if she doesn't like him, get rid of her before you get attached."

"Is that what you do?" Santana let her head fall back on his arm. "Is that how you go through all those women unscathed?"

"This is not about me," Sam said. "This is about you. Stop dating people you think you should like and spend time with somebody who's fun to be with."

"There are people like that?" Santana said.

"They all are in the beginning," Sam said, and then remembered Cedes. "Well, except for the woman I had dinner with last night. She was pretty much a pain in the butt from the start."

"Of course you picked up a woman last night." Santana rolled her head to look at him. "They could drop you in the middle of a guy's locker room and you'd come out with a woman. How do you do it?"

Sam grinned at her. "My natural charm." He could almost see the actuary rolling her eyes as he said it.

Santana rolled her head away. "And the sad thing is, that's true. I have no natural charm."

"Yes, you do," Sam said. "You just don't have to use it."

Santana looked back at him. "I do?"

"When you're not worried about impressing some snobby twit, you're great," Sam said. "You're talented and funny and a good time."

"I am?"

"I hang out with you, don't I?"

"Well, yeah, but you're just being nice."

"I'm not nice," Sam said. "I'm selfish as all hell. And since you've made it clear you'll never sleep with me, I must be spending time with you because you're fun, right? Not counting these wet Elvis nights."

"Right," Santana said, brightening some.

"Well, my standards of fun are very high," Sam said. "So you must be great. You just date the biggest losers I've ever met in my life."

"Oh, and the women you date are all sweethearts." Santana got up and moved away from him.

"This is not about me," Sam said. "The reason you keep crashing and burning is that you have no confidence since you are not living your dream as a singer, your family disowning you when you came out, and your dropping out of college without a degree have knocked all the fire and brimstone out of you, and you keep picking women who like that about you."

"I know." Santana sat down on the red barstool next to her breakfast bar and shoved back the yellow curtain she'd draped in the opening to reach for her cookie jar.

"So you should pick somebody who makes you feel good about yourself. You have a good job at the bar making a lot of money in tips to be able to afford this place and feed yourself while giving you time in the day to work on your music career."

Santana opened the cookie jar and took out an Oreo. "I know."

"How many times have we had this talk?"

"Every time I get my heart broken." Santana bit savagely into her cookie.

"And every time, you abuse Elvis. That was a good song and you ran it into the ground. Sooner or later, you're going to pay for that."

"I know and guess what Sam, I don't care," Santana said around her Oreo.

"Pick something that has some fight to it," Sam said. "There must be a pissed-off breakup song."

"I've always liked 'I Will Survive,'" Santana said, cheering up a little.

"Oh, Christ." Sam stood up. Behind him, Elvis began to sing "She" again. "Set him free, will you?"

Santana crossed to the bookcase and turned Elvis off. "They're not critical when I meet them, you know."

"Remember your first date with Dani?" Sam said. "You introduced us outside in the hallway?" Santana nodded.

"She was complaining about having to date you on a Sunday night because you work Monday through Saturday night in a low down bar like a person without an education. I would have jumped to your defense then but she looked like she could take me."

"She had a right to not want to be out late on Sundays when Mondays are a work day."

"She was a bitter, controlling snob," Sam said. "You should have cut your losses after the first date."

"Is that what you did last night?" Santana said.

"Hell, yes," Sam said.

"Well, I can't do that," Santana said, going back to her cookie jar. "I'm not like you. I have to give it a fair shot."

Sam sighed. "All right. Why did she leave?"

Santana's face crumpled again. "She said I was too embarrassing to introduce to her parents because they would want to know what I do, and she would have to admit to dating a bartender."

"Well, she implied that you were less than for your career often enough to know," Sam said. Santana burst into tears, and he went to her and put his arms around her. "Get mad at her, San. She was not a nice person."

"But I loved her!" Santana wailed into his chest, spitting Oreo crumbs on his shirt.

"No, you didn't," Sam said, holding her tighter. "You wanted to love her. It's not the same thing. You only knew her a couple of weeks."

"It can happen like that." Santana looked up into his face. "You can just know."

"No," Sam said. "You do not look at somebody, hear Elvis Costello singing 'She' on the soundtrack in your head, and fall in love. It takes time."

"Like you'd know." Santana pulled away and picked up her cookie jar. "Have you ever stayed with anybody long enough to love her?"

"Hey," Sam said, insulted.

"That's no answer," Santana said, retreating to her couch with her cookies. "Is that why you keep walking away so fast? Because at least I try."

"This is not about me," Sam said.

"I know, I know," Santana said, fishing out another Oreo. "God, I'm a mess. Want a cookie?"

"No," Sam said. "Get your act together and try again tomorrow. If you swing by the office, I'll take you to lunch before you go to work at the bar."

"That would be nice," Santana said. "You're a good person, Sam. Sometimes I wish you were a woman with that mouth of yours I can almost convince myself that you are—"

"Thank you," Sam said doubtfully.

"—and then I remember you have that commitment phobia and I'm glad you're a guy. I have enough problems."

"This is true." Sam put his hand on the doorknob. "Can I go home now?"

"Sure," Santana said. "Take me someplace expensive tomorrow."

"I'll take you to Rory's," Sam said. "He needs the business and you love bread."

* * *

While Sam was trying to cheer up Santana, Cedes stopped by Rory's to pick up salad and bread.

"Ah, the lovely Cedes!" he said when she tracked him down in his kitchen.

"Rory, my darling," Cedes said. "I need salad and bread for three right now and a kickass wedding cake for two hundred three weeks from Sunday."

"Oh." Rory leaned against the counter. "My grandmother in law makes wedding cakes. They taste like ..." He shut his eyes. "... heaven. Light as a feather." He opened his eyes. "But they're good, old-fashioned cakes, they don't have marzipan birds or fondant icing."

"Could she make a cake and decorate it with fresh flowers?" Cedes said. "I can get some real pearls. Maybe if the cake is covered with real things instead of sugar imitations, people will be impressed."

"I don't know," Rory said. "But what matters is how it tastes, and it will taste—"

"Rory, that's sweet," Cedes said, imagining Janette's reaction to that one. "Unfortunately, in this case, what matters is how it looks."

"How about this," Rory said. "I'll see if she'll do the cake. If she says yes, she'll ice it plainly, and you can put the flowers and the pearls on it."

"Me," Cedes said doubtfully. "Well, not me, but my friend, Marley can do it, she has fabulous taste. It's a deal. Call your grandma."

Rory picked up the phone. "So are you taking Sam to this wedding?"

"I'm never seeing Sam again," Cedes said.

"God, you guys are dumb," Rory said as he punched the numbers into the phone. In a moment, his face brightened. "Nonna?" he said and began to talk in Italian. The only word Cedes recognized was "Sam" which was worrying, but when Rory hung up, he was smiling.

"It's all set," he said. "I told her you were Sam's girlfriend. She loves Sam."

"All women do." Cedes kissed him on the cheek. "You are my hero."

"That's the food," Rory said and packed up bread and salad for three for her. Then she went home and walked up thirty-two steps to Marley's apartment on the first floor.

"So," Holly said when she answered Marley's door. "You want to explain last night?"

"Can I come in first?" Cedes said and slid past Holly into Marley's bright, warm apartment. Marley had set her mission table with her Royal Doulton Tennyson china and a cut glass vase of grocery roses. It looked so pretty that Cedes thought, _okay, my apartment will never look this good, but I could set a better table. I could even cook. I could get my grandmother's kitchen things out of Marley's apartment._ It would be nice to do kitchen stuff as her grandmother had. Maybe bake cookies. That she couldn't eat.

Cedes sighed and put the Styrofoam boxes down on Marley's table.

"What's that?" Marley said, poking at the Styrofoam.

"The best salad you'll ever eat, and even better bread," Cedes said, and Marley went to get serving bowls.

"Bread?" Holly said to Cedes. "You're going to eat bread?"

"No," Cedes said. "I ate bread last night and then paid for it today. You're going to eat bread, and I'm going to live vicariously."

Holly made a face as she pulled out one of Marley's tall dining room chairs. "Like dessert. Stats, you—"

"What did you bring?" Cedes said, dreading the answer.

"Raspberry Swirl Dove Bars," Holly said, as she sat down.

"Rot in hell," Cedes said, pulling out her own chair. "Why can't you ever bring fruit?"

"Because fruit is not dessert," Holly said. "Now explain to us why you left the bar with Samuel Evans last night."

Cedes shoved the bread box Holly's way. "Anthony bet him ten bucks he couldn't get me into bed in a month." She watched them freeze in place, Marley with a platter of chicken and vegetables in her hands, Holly opening the bread.

"You are kidding me," Holly said, her face dangerous with anger.

"I let him pick me up because I had a plan to get a date to the wedding, and then I realized I couldn't put up with that smarmy charm for three weeks, so I ate an excellent dinner and left."

Marley's face crumpled. "Oh, honey, that's awful."

"No," Cedes said. "Let's forget Sam Evans and eat. I want to talk about Bree. She's not happy."

"Wet and Worse." Holly gave Cedes a look that said they'd be talking about Sam again soon. "They'd bring anybody down."

Cedes closed her eyes. "Do not call them that. I almost called Kitty Wet this afternoon at the fitting. She looked like she was about to sob through the whole thing."

"Well, that's understandable," Marley said, sympathy in her voice. She put the platter in the middle of the table and sat down, too.

Holly dumped the bread into a bowl. "Maybe Bree shouldn't have asked Wet to be a bridesmaid. That's almost cruel but your sister is a lot like your mother and being a cruel bitch can be hereditary."

"It would be worse not to be asked," Marley said. "Is that why she's upset, Cedes?"

"I think it's Jake," Cedes said, starting on her salad, "but she won't admit it. He's the one who forgot to order the wedding cake."

"Whoa," Holly said. "This is a man who's resisting his own wedding. And let's face it, your mother and Bree railroaded him into it."

"He proposed on his own," Marley said.

"I think he wanted a longer engagement," Cedes said. "But he said yes when they set the date. He's not incapable of speech. He could have said 'No.'"

"To Janette and Bree?" Holly said as she started on her salad. "Fat chance. Worse will do a kind deed before Jake will grow a spine. Now you need to talk more about Samuel Evans and this damn bet. We want to know everything."

Half an hour later, the salad was gone, the leftover chicken was in the refrigerator, and Marley was unwrapping a Dove Bar as Cedes finished her recap of the evening.

"At least he walked you home," Marley said. "That was nice." She sounded doubtful.

"Yes. And then he hit me in the head, said, 'Have a nice life,' and left me," Cedes said. "I didn't like him, you guys don't like him, and he didn't like me. I think that's a perfect score."

"I think that whole good-bye thing is a trick," Holly said around a mouthful of Dove Bar. "I think he's putting you off guard, and he'll be back. If you're not careful, he'll charm you into bed and break your heart."

Cedes frowned at her in exasperation. "How naive do I look? I know about the bet. Anyway, I have a new plan."

"Oh, good," Holly said. "Because you don't have enough plans."

Cedes ignored her. I was listening to Tupac rapping "Me and My Girlfriend" last night and it occurred to me that if he'd been reincarnated, he'd be about twenty-three now, and I'm open to younger men. Statistically, the most successful marriages are those in which the woman is eight years older than the man. So I've decided to either wait for the reincarnated Tupac to find me or settle for his doppelganger Demetrius Shipp, Jr." "

"You'd be ten years older," Marley said.

"Yes, and I am okay with being called a cougar.

"Why Tupac?" Holly said.

"Because he always tells the truth when he raps. Tupac is the only man in my life I can trust."

"So let me get this straight," Holly said, pointing with her half-eaten Dove Bar. "Marley is waiting for a fairy tale character to make her life complete, and you're holding out for a guy that may or may not be dead because he was reincarnated but in case he is dead, you will marry his doppelganger anyway."

"Yep," Cedes said, and Holly shook her head.

"I might have found my prince," Marley said. "Ryder's so good."

"Ryder?" Cedes asked, trying not to watch Holly consume her Dove Bar.

"We picked up the beast's friends last night," Holly said around her ice cream. "Marley got the one that walks upright."

"Ryder is a sweetheart," Marley said. "I'm thinking of breaking my date Saturday night and going out with him instead. I'll wait and see how Friday night with him works out."

"He asked you out?" Cedes said, relieved to be off the subject of Sam. "Tell all."

"He asked her out for every night for the rest of her life," Holly said. "He's blind, dumb, and deaf for her."

"That's nice." Cedes picked the last salad leaf out of her bowl to compensate for her lack of sugar. "So he has potential, Marl?"

"Maybe." Marley came as close to frowning as she ever did. "I think if I keep seeing him for a couple of weeks and it's working, I'll take him home to Mama and let her scope him out." Cedes raised her eyebrows. "You think he'll cross three states to meet your mother after two weeks?"

"He would cross the Andes to get her a toothpick," Holly said. "It's pathetic."

"No, it's not." Marley frowned over her ice cream stick. "It's sweet. And he thinks Sam is great, which is confusing."

"So Marley met a good one," Cedes said to Holly, ignoring the Sam reference. "Who'd you get?"

"The village idiot," Holly said. "He also thinks Sam is the man. They're like the Three Stooges. Only not funny."

"The Three Stooges aren't funny," Marley said.

"Too true," Cedes said. "Are you seeing the idiot again?"

"Yes." Holly licked the last of her ice cream off the stick. "I think your beast is coming back, and my idiot babbles nicely when I ask him questions. Plus, there is a bartender who lives next door to the beast with whom I must bond."

"Well, don't ask questions for me," Cedes said. "Samuel Evans is not part of my future."

"He will be tomorrow night," Marley said. "He'll be at The Long Shot with Ryder and Hunter."

Cedes shook her head. "Then I'll stay home."

"No," Marley said, stricken. "We don't have to go there. We'll go somewhere else so you can come, too."

"And make you miss Ryder?" Cedes reconsidered. "No. Not even I am selfish enough to cross True Love. I'll go. I want to see this Ryder up close anyway."

"Are you sure Sam made that bet?" Marley said.

"I was standing right there," Cedes said. "I heard it. With my own ears. He said, 'Piece of cake.'" That rankled more than anything.

"Because Ryder thinks the world of him," Marley said. "He told me all about him, about the three of them. It's kind of sad. They met in summer school when they were in the third grade. Ryder said he was a slow thinker, and Hunter didn't care about school, and Sam was dyslexic, so everybody thought they were dumb."

"Sam has dyslexia?" Cedes said, surprised.

"Hunter is dumb," Holly said at the same time.

"No," Marley said, with the heavy patience that meant "back off. "Hunter is not dumb. When he cares, he's very smart. And Ryder isn't dumb, either, he's just very methodical, you can't hurry him. He's like my Uncle Burt."

"Oh, God," Holly said to the ceiling. "He's like family. I will bet you anything that Ryder is her If this week."

"I don't bet," Cedes said. "Marley? What's your If?"

Marley stuck her chin out. "If Ryder turns out to be as sweet as I think he is, I'm going to marry him."

"Oh, good grief," Holly said.

"Leave her alone," Cedes said to Holly. "She gets whatever If she wants. What's yours?"

Holly straightened. "If my job doesn't get any more interesting, I'm quitting next week."

"Get the calendar," Cedes said to Marley.

"I don't have to," Marley said. "It was August when she quit the last time because she said nobody should work in a heat wave."

"Ten months," Cedes said. "That's not good. Her attention span is getting shorter."

"It's an If," Holly said to Cedes. "I'm keeping an eye on my options. I think I might want to be a waitress again if I can find someplace fun. What's your If?"

Cedes thought of Sam Evans, and her head began to throb. "If I can find my Tupac, I'll date again. Until then, I'm taking a break from inter-gender socialization. It's just too painful."

"I am the only sane woman in this room," Holly said.

"Sanity is overrated," Cedes said, and went home to get an aspirin.


	5. Chapter 4 Part 2

**See Author's Note for Part I except the Santana part. I hope it's okay that I split these chapters up. There is some unpleasant guy talk about Cedes but it's brief and not the focus of the chapter.**

**Chapter Four-Part 2**

The next night, Sam was back at The Long Shot, as far away from the landing as possible to give himself a wide escape path. Ryder was ten feet away, looking at Marley as if she were the center of the universe. Marley was looking at Ryder as if he were a very nice man that she didn't know very well. Sam shook his head. Watching Ryder date was like watching a toddler in traffic.

Hunter sat down beside Sam and slid his Scotch over. "I think you should go for it," he said, nodding toward the bar.

"What?" Sam looked past Marley, to see a tall, slender redhead. Hunter's Holly. Then she shifted and he saw Cedes standing behind her, draped in a loose red sweater. It had some kind of hood hanging down the back, and Ryder tugged on it and said something that made her smile. "Great." Now he'd have to put up with Cedes slanging at him for another evening.

"It's not like you to stare and not do anything about it," Hunter said. "You are losing it."

"I was watching Ryder and Marley," Sam said.

"Oh." Hunter looked over at Ryder and shrugged. "Yep, he's a goner. Well, we all gotta die sometime."

"Yeah, you're the guy I want watching my back," Sam said.

"Well, what are you gonna do?" Hunter looked past him and straightened."What the hell? Where do they think they're going?"

Sam turned back to see the four of them commandeer a poker table on the other side of the bar. "Not here," he said, cheering up. Evidently, Cedes had had as bad a time as he'd had. Which was her own fault because she was impossible to please. God knew he'd tried. Well, except for clipping her there at the end.

She sat down beside Holly, and he watched her as she leaned back and stretched out her black-clad legs. Her legs were pretty good, strong full calves, sturdy, which were more likely the results of her climbing all those stairs daily. She was definitely in shape.

"She'll be over here in five minutes," Hunter said.

"Ten bucks says she won't," Sam said, turning back to his Glenlivet and turning his attention from Cedes' legs.

"You're on," Hunter said. "She wants me."

"You?" Sam said, startled. "Oh, you mean Holly." He looked back at the redhead who was laughing with Cedes and giving no evidence whatsoever that she knew Hunter existed. "Nope, she won't, either."

"Oh, you were talking about the chub?" Hunter said.

"Don't call her that," Sam said. "Her name is Cedes. She's a good woman, apart from her rage." He watched her as she leaned sideways in her chair to say something to Marley. "She's not chubby. She's just got a really round body. Everywhere."

"Nice rack," Hunter said, thinking he was being fair. "So you struck out, huh?"

"No," Sam said, turning his back on them again. "I asked her to dinner and she went. Then I walked her home and said good-bye. I did not strike out."

"Finally, a woman you can't get," Hunter said, satisfaction in his voice. "That's kind of depressing because it's like an era is passing—"

"I didn't try," Sam said.

"—but it's good to know you put on your pants one leg at a time like the rest of us."

"I've never understood that," Sam said. "How else would you put on your pants?"

Hunter leaned over. "Ten bucks says you can't get Cedes to go out with you tomorrow night."

"I don't want to go out with her tomorrow night," Sam said.

"Take her to the movies," Hunter said. "You won't have to talk to her."

"Hunter. .."

"Ten bucks, hotshot. I don't think you can do it."

Sam looked over his shoulder at Cedes. All the laughing aside, she didn't look any more relaxed than she'd been Wednesday night. And she was ignoring him. He shook his head at Hunter. "She won't go. No bet."

"This is hard to believe," Hunter said. "You chickening out."

"Hunter, she hates men right now. She just broke up with somebody."

"Well, there you go. She's on the rebound," Hunter said. "That gives you an edge. You could get her into bed."

"I don't want her in bed," Sam said. "She'll probably ice pick the next guy she sleeps with to get even with the guy who dumped her. Trust me, this is not a woman you close your eyes around."

"Wuss," Hunter said. "I'll make it easy. Lunch. Ten bucks says you can't get her to lunch."

Sam looked over at Cedes again. What would get her to lunch? She was sitting back in her chair now, smiling at Ryder, as if she were sizing him up. Protective of her friend. She could relax about Ryder. If Marley got him, she'd be a lucky woman. Of course, Cedes didn't know that.

"You in?" Hunter said.

So if he went over and said—

"Lucy Quinn just came in," Hunter said.

"Hell." Sam sat up but didn't look toward the door. "She hates this bar. Why—"

"She's stalking you," Hunter said. "She must really want to get married. And she's headed this way."

"Right." Sam stood up. "Come on."

"Where?" Hunter said, not rising.

"Over there so you can harass your redhead while I get a lunch date and duck Quinn. You're on."

"You just lost ten bucks, old buddy," Hunter said, practically chortling. "I saw Cedes' face when you came in, and she was not happy to see you." He stood up, too. "I can't believe you went for that. You hit her in the head, you dork. Why would she go anywhere with you?"

"Ten bucks first," Sam said, holding out his hand.

"You have to get the date first," Hunter said. "Which ain't happening."

"No, this is for the redhead who did not come to get you in five minutes," Sam said, and Hunter sighed and got out his wallet.

* * *

Cedes was ignoring Sam and checking out Ryder when Holly pulled up the chair to her right and sat down.

"So," Holly said, sliding over a Diet Coke and rum. "What's new with Bree?"

"I called her today," Cedes said, picking up her drink. "I asked her if everything was okay with Wet—" She closed her eyes. "—with Kitty, and she said, yes, Kitty's dating a very nice man and she's fine with the wedding. And Worse . . . and Rachel has talked to Kitty and has assured Bree that Kitty's fine with it."

"Is she delusional?" Holly said as somebody pulled up a chair to Cedes' left.

"Who? Wet, Worse, or Bree?" Cedes said.

"All of them," Holly said.

"My guess is that Wet's being brave, Worse is being a bully, and Bree's in denial," Cedes said, turning to see who was on her left. "Oh," she said when she saw Sam sitting there with two glasses in front of him. He was as beautiful as he'd been two nights before, and her DNA went wild again.

"Hello, little girl," he said and flipped the hood on her sweater.

Holly snorted and turned to talk to Marley on her other side.

"Oh, that's good," Cedes said. "You're definitely the first person to make a Red Riding Hood crack to me tonight. I'm never wearing this sweater again."

"Hostility," Sam said. "It's deja vu all over again. How's your head?"

"The pain comes and goes," Cedes said. "And then there are the voices."

"Good. Now you have someone to talk to. Who are Wet, Worse, and Bree, and how did they get those terrible names?"

"Nobody you want to know." Cedes picked up her drink. "What are you up to?"

"Let me guess," Sam said, his voice heavy with scorn. "That's a rum and Diet Coke. The breakfast of dieters."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"No, Buffy. Fate sent me over here to teach you to drink with dignity." He took her rum away from her and slid one of his glasses over to her. "Glenlivet. Drink it slowly."

Cedes frowned at him. "This is your idea of charm?"

"No," Sam said. "I don't waste charm on you. I'm trying to help you grow. Real women do not screw up good booze with a diet soda."

"Peer pressure," Cedes said. "It never stops."

"Try it," Sam said. "One sip. You hate it, I'll give you this slop back." Cedes shrugged. "Okay." She picked it up and took a drink and then choked as the Scotch seared her throat.

"I said, sip, Jones," Sam said over her gasping. "You're supposed to savor it, not guzzle it."

"Thank you," Cedes said when she had her breath back. "You can go now."

"No, I can't." He leaned closer and Cedes started to feel too warm in her sweater. "I have a deal for you." Cedes picked up the Scotch again and sipped it. It was nice when you sipped it. Sam leaned closer until he was almost whispering in her ear. "I want to know about Marley." His breath was warm on her neck, and Cedes blinked at him. "Marley? I think Ryder's got dibs on Marley."

"I know. That's why I want to know about her. Ryder is. .." Sam looked across the table. ". .. not adept with women. I want to know about your friend."

"Well," Cedes said, prepared to give Marley a perfect report card.

"Not here," Sam said, still too close. "I think they'll notice. I'll meet you for lunch tomorrow. You know where Cherry Hill Park is?"

"I've heard of it," Cedes said. "I don't have the bank account to go up there and hang around."

"There's a picnic area on the north side," Sam said. "I'll meet you at the first table tomorrow at noon."

"Why do I feel like there should be a code word?" Cedes said, finally pulling away from him. "I'll say 'pretentious' and you say 'snob.'"

"You want to know about Ryder or not?" Sam said.

Cedes looked back at Marley. If you didn't know her, she looked detached, but Cedes knew her. Marley was glowing. "Yes."

"Good," Sam said. "Let me see your shoes."

"What?" Cedes said, and Sam looked under the table. She pulled her foot out, and he looked down at her open-toed high-heeled mules, laced across her instep with black leather thongs that contrasted with her bright red toenail polish. "Holly calls them 'Toes in Bondage,'" she said helpfully.

"Does she?" Sam sat very still, looking at her toes for a long moment. "Well, that made my evening. See you tomorrow at noon." He pushed back his chair and left, taking his Scotch and her rum and Diet Coke with him.

"Okay, I couldn't hear the part at the end," Holly said, leaning over to her. "What was he asking you?"

"I'm going to lunch tomorrow," Cedes said, not sure how she felt about that. If he whispered in her ear again, she was going to have to smack him, that was all there was to it.

"Where?"

"Cherry Hill Park."

"Jeez," Holly said. "Softball of the Rich and Famous. What time?"

"Noon."

Holly nodded. Then she raised her voice and called, "Hunter."

Cedes looked around for him and saw him at the roulette bar, handing Sam a ten-dollar bill. "I don't believe it," she said, straightening in outrage. The sonofabitch had bet on lunch and she'd fallen for it.

Hunter looked up, and Holly crooked her finger. He walked over and said, "You know, I'm not the kind of guy you can do that to."

"You and I are having lunch at noon tomorrow in Cherry Hill Park," Holly said.

"Okay," Hunter said. "But only because I've gotta coach a baseball game there in the morning anyway."

"Good," Holly said. "You can go now."

Hunter shook his head at her and went back to the bar and Sam.

"Well, at least he's obedient," Cedes said.

"Don't get any ideas about saying yes at lunch," Holly said.

"It's lunch" Cedes said. "In broad daylight. In a public park."

"You said you weren't going to see him, and he still got you to lunch."

"I had a reason for that," Cedes said, casting a bitter glance at the bar. Sam was still there, but now the blonde from Wednesday was there, too, moving closer to him in a blue halter top. That figured. Beast.

"I'll be fine, believe me, I know what he is." She cast another look at the bar where Sam appeared to be sliding away from the halter top. Playing hard to get, the jerk.

"Yeah, well, I'm watching your back just the same," Holly said. "And if it hits the grass, Samuel's going to lose a body part."

"Boy, you really don't like him, do you?" Cedes said.

"I think he bet Hunter he could get that lunch date," Holly said.

"I think so, too," Cedes said.

"See if you can do something horrible to him tomorrow," Holly said.

"Already planning it," Cedes said.

* * *

After another excruciating Saturday morning forcing fourteen eight-year-olds to play baseball against their better judgments, Sam was not in the mood to put up with Cedes, but he grabbed his cooler from the car, stopped by the charity hot dog stand for the main course, and went to meet her at the picnic table he'd told her about. She wasn't there, so he threw an old blanket across the massive teak table—Cherry Hill did not stint on the amenities—put the basket on it, and then sat on top of the table, feeling cheerful about being stood up. It was a beautiful day, the park was thick with shade trees, the kids were gone, and nobody was bitching at him.

Then Cedes came into the park through the trees, following the curving crushed gravel path. She was wearing her long red sweater again, but this time she had on a red-and-black-checked skirt that floated when the breeze blew. Her hair was still wound in a knot on the top of her head, but her stride was long and loose as she came toward him, and she smiled at him as she drew closer, and it suddenly seemed better not to have been stood up. And when he offered her his hand to help her up on the table, she hesitated and then took it, and her fingers were pleasantly, solidly warm as she boosted herself up beside him on the table.

"Hi," she said and he grinned at her.

"Hi," he said. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me." Cedes dropped her bag on the bench below them. "Give me ten bucks."

Sam blinked. "What?"

Cedes smiled at him, cheerful as the sun. "I was going to make your lunch a living hell, but it's such a beautiful day, I've decided to enjoy it. You bet Hunter ten bucks you could get me to lunch."

"No, I didn't," Sam said.

Cedes' smile disappeared.

"Hunter bet me ten bucks I could get you to lunch."

Cedes rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Give me ten bucks or I'm leaving you cold and you'll have to give Hunter his ten bucks back plus ten more because you've lost."

"I think I won when you said, 'Yes,'" Sam said, suddenly a lot more interested in Cedes.

"Try explaining that to Hunter," Cedes said.

"Okay," Sam said. "How about we split it?"

Cedes held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Ten bucks, Charm Boy." Sam sighed and dug out his wallet, trying not to grin at her. She took the ten, picked up her bag, stuffed the bill in it and then pulled out a twenty and handed it to him.

"What's this?" Sam said.

"That's the twenty you gave me for cab fare on Wednesday," Cedes said. "I forgot to give it back to you."

"So now I'm up ten bucks," Sam said.

"No, now you've broken even. It was your twenty, to begin with. I had no right to it since you didn't get fresh."

Sam looked up at the sun. "The day's young."

"I don't see you making your move on a picnic table," Cedes said. "In fact, I don't see you moving on me at all, so tuck that away and tell me everything you know about Ryder."

"I'm glad to see you, too," he said, and her smile widened.

"Sorry. I forgot your lust for small talk. And how have you been in the fourteen hours since we last spoke, eight of which you were sleeping?"

"Fine. And you?"

"Wonderful. How much of this before we get to Ryder and Marley?"

"You're a very practical woman," Sam said, and then Cedes pulled her legs up to tuck them under her and he caught sight of her shoes, ridiculous sandals made mostly of ribbons with a single bright red flower over the instep. "Except for your shoes."

"Don't make fun of my shoes." Cedes wiggled red-tipped toes under the flowers. "I love these shoes. Holly gave them to me for Christmas." She untied the ribbons and pulled them off and put them on the table behind her, patting the flowers before she turned back to him.

"I can see why you love them," Sam said, then got so distracted by her toes, that she pulled her skirt over them.

"Good thing this isn't a date," Cedes said cheerfully. "Or this would be the part where there was a really awkward silence."

Sam grinned at her. "Have you ever had an awkward silence in your life, Jones?"

"Not many," Cedes said. "You?"

"Nope." Sam dumped the bag of wrapped hot dogs out on the blanket. "Okay. Ryder and Marley. Have a hot dog while we talk."

"A hot dog?" Cedes said, in the same tone of voice she'd have used to say "Cocaine?"

"Those aren't good for you."

"They're protein," Sam said, exasperated. "You can have them. Just lose the bun."

"Fat," Cedes said.

"I thought fat was okay on no-carb diets," Sam said, remembering Lucy Quinn chowing down on buttered shrimp.

"It is, but I'm on a no-fat Atkins," Cedes said.

Sam looked at her, incredulous. "Which leaves you what to eat?"

"Not much," Cedes said, looking at the hot dogs with patent longing.

"They're brats," Sam said.

"Oh, just hell," Cedes said.

"It's Saturday," Sam said. "Live a little."

"That's what you said Wednesday at Rory's. I've already sinned this week."

"Saturday is the first day of the new week. Sin again."

Cedes bit her lip, and the breeze picked up again, rustling the trees and lifting the edge of the skirt, floating it closer to him.

"I brought you Diet Coke to compensate," he said, opening the cooler. "Also, this conversation is boring."

"Right. Sorry." She took the can he handed her and popped it open. "Really sorry. There's nothing more boring than talking about food."

"No," Sam said. "Talking about food is great. Talking about not having food is boring." He picked up one of the wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and handed it to her. "Eat."

Cedes looked at the hot dog, sighed, and unwrapped it. "You are a beast."

"Because I'm feeding you?" Sam said. "How is that bad? We're Americans. We're supposed to eat well. It's the American Way."

"Hot dogs are the American Way?" Cedes said and then stopped. "Oh. I guess they are, aren't they? Right up there with baseball and apple pie."

"Baseball you can have," Sam said and bit into his hot dog.

Cedes squinted at his team shirt. "Isn't that shirt sort of baseball-ish?"

"Yes," Sam said. "For my sins, I teach children to run around bases on Saturday mornings. Someday, your husband will be doing this, too, while you sit in the bleachers and cheer on your little children and their teams. It's the price you pay for liberty."

"I'm not having kids," Cedes said and bit into her hot dog.

"You're not?" Sam said and then was distracted by the look of bliss on her face while she chewed. The brats were good, but they weren't that good.

She swallowed and sighed. "This is wonderful. My dad used to sneak us out for brats every time there was a festival anyplace within driving distance. My mother would have killed him if she'd known. Do you know how long it's been since I tasted one of these? It's heaven."

"It looks like heaven," he said, and then she leaned over to take another bite, keeping the sandwich over the waxed paper to catch the drippings, and he looked down the v-neck of her loose red sweater and saw a lot of lush round flesh in tight red lace. Hunter would have a heart attack, he thought and then realized he was a little lightheaded himself. The breeze blew again and wafted her skirt against the hand he had braced on the table, and it tickled, soft and light.

"So," he said, moving his hand. "All right. Why don't you want to be part of the American Way?"

She chewed with her eyes closed, and he looked down her sweater again and had impure thoughts. Then she swallowed and said, "I have to give birth to be a good American? No. There are more than four million babies born in this country every year. The American Way is covered. If it worries you, you can have extra to make up for mine."

"Me?" Sam sat back away from distraction. "I don't want kids. I'm just surprised that you don't. You'd make a great mom."

"Why?" Cedes stopped with the sandwich halfway to her mouth.

Because she looked soft all over. Because she looked like she'd age into the kind of mother he'd have killed for. "Because you look comfortable."

"Oh, God, yes," Cedes said, glaring at him. "That's exactly the compliment every woman longs for." She leaned forward to bite into her sandwich, and he watched transfixed as her breasts pressed against the lace again.

"It is a very, sexy comfortable if that makes it better," he said.

"Marginally better," she said, following his eyes down. "You're looking down my sweater."

"You're leaning over. There's all that red lace right there."

"Lace is good, huh?" Cedes said.

"Oh, yeah."

"My mother wins again," Cedes said and bit into her hot dog.

Sam picked up his hot dog. "How'd your mother get into this?"

"She's pervasive." Cedes swallowed, frowning. "So if you don't like kids, how'd you end up coaching?"

"I didn't say I didn't like kids," Sam said, trying to think of something beside Cedes' red lace. "I said I didn't want kids. There's a difference."

"Good point. And yet I ask, why coach?"

"I got Shanghaied," Sam said. "We both were. Harry hates baseball as much as I hate coaching."

"Who's Harry?"

"My nephew."

"Why don't the two of you go AWOL?"

"Turns out there are other kids on the team besides Harry," Sam said. "Who knew?"

"Funny. So you're out here every Saturday morning?" Cedes shook her head. "That must have been some Shanghai."

"I got hit by the best." He picked up a pickle and bit into it. "It's not that bad. Ryder and Hunter do most of the work. They like it."

"Ryder," Cedes said. "Ah yes, Ryder. I have some questions about Ryder."

"Not Hunter?" Sam said.

"Hunter is seeing Holly," Cedes said. "If Hunter turns out to be a rat, Holly will exterminate him."

"Hunter's hard to put down," Sam said, "but I get your drift. So Marley's not like that?"

"Marley is no pushover," Cedes said. "She's smart and she's tough but she has this one blind spot. She believes in the fairy tale, that there's one man in the world for her. And she thinks your friend Ryder is her prince on very little evidence. So tell me about Ryder."

"Ryder's the best guy I know," Sam said. "And he's crazy about Marley. He's going to get banged up if she walks away. Tell me about Marley."

Cedes shifted on the blanket as she reached for her Coke can, and Sam watched her, aware of every move she made, of the smooth curve of her neck as her sweater slipped toward her shoulder, the ease in her round body as she leaned back and smiled at him, the swell of her calf under her checked skirt as it blew toward him again. "Marley," she said, bringing him back to the subject at hand, "spent a year and a half looking at couches. Couches are very important, they're right up there with beds in the hierarchy of furniture, but even I thought a year and a half was a long time looking for a couch."

"Yes," Sam said, trying to think of Ryder instead of curves. "But—"

"Then one night we were on the way to the movies and she stopped in front of a furniture store window and said, 'Wait a minute,' and went in and bought this horribly expensive couch in about five minutes."

Cedes leaned forward again, and Sam looked down her sweater again and thought, _don't do that, I'm getting a headache from the blood rush_.

"She had to put it on two different credit cards," Cedes went on, "and it took her two years to pay it off, but it's a great couch and she's never regretted it, and when she had it reupholstered, the upholsterer said it would last forever."

"Great," Sam said, still looking down her sweater. She was breathing softly, just enough for the rise and fall of—

"Hello," she said and he jerked his head up. "Not that I'm not flattered, but I'm making a point here. Ryder is Marley's new couch. She's always been sure that someday her prince would show up, and she's done a lot of dating looking for him, and now she's taken one look at Ryder and she's sure he's the one, and she's going to buy him in about a minute. So if he isn't a good guy, I want to know now so I can break it to her. Tell me he's not a rat."

"Ryder took a year to buy a couch, too," Sam said, regrouping.

"What kind of couch?" Cedes said.

"Sort of a La-Z-Boy with a thyroid problem," Sam said. "I think it's brown."

Cedes nodded. "Marley bought a reproduction mission settle with cushions upholstered in a celadon William Morris print."

"I think I know what 'mission' is," Sam said. "Everything else, you were speaking Chinese."

"Ryder's couch is toast," Cedes said. "Will he mind?"

"She can chop it into kindling in front of him and he won't blink," Sam said.

"Can he take care of her?" Cedes said. "She probably won't need it, but in a crunch—"

"He will throw his body in front of her if necessary. You have nothing to worry about with Ryder. He's the best guy I know. If I had a sister, I would let Ryder marry her. It's Marley I'm worried about it. She's got that efficient look that usually means she likes to boss people around. And since she's so perfect looking—"

"Nope," Cedes said. "She's solid. Ryder's a lucky guy." She finished the last of her hot dog and then licked a smear of ketchup off her thumb, and Sam lost his train of thought. "So they're okay and we don't have to worry," she said when she'd wiped her hands on a napkin.

"Yep," Sam said. "How about dessert?"

"I don't eat dessert," Cedes said.

"Really?" Sam said. "What a surprise."

"Oh, bite me," Cedes said. "I told you there's this bridesmaid's dress—" Sam pulled a waxed paper bag from the cooler. "Doughnuts," he said, but before he could go on, a too-familiar piping voice came from behind him.

"Can I have one?"

He sighed and turned around to see his skinny, grubby, dark-haired nephew standing at the end of the picnic table. "Shouldn't you be home by now?"

"They forgot again," Harry said, putting a lot of pathetic in his voice. It helped that he wore glasses and was small for his age. He peered around Sam. "Hello," he said cautiously to Cedes.

"Cedes," Sam said, glaring at Harry. "This is my nephew, Harry Evans. He was just leaving. Harry, this is Cedes Jones."

"Hi, Harry," Cedes said cheerfully. "You can have all the doughnuts." Harry brightened.

"No, you can't." Sam took out his cell phone. "You'd just throw them up again."

"Maybe not." Harry sidled closer to the doughnut bag.

"You do remember the cupcake disaster, right?" Sam said as he punched in his sister-in-law's number.

"Can't he have one?" Cedes smiled at Harry as he drew closer, her face soft and kind, and Sam and Harry both blinked at her for a moment because she was so pretty.

Then while Sam listened to the phone ring, Harry looked at Cedes' skirt and poked it with his finger.

"Harry," Sam said, and Cedes pulled out one of her sandals.

"Here," she told Harry, and he poked at the flower.

"Those are shoes," Harry said as if he were observing an anomaly.

"Yep," Cedes said, watching him, her head tilted.

Harry poked the flower again. "That's not real."

"No," Cedes said. "It's just for fun."

Harry nodded as if this were a new idea, which, Sam realized, it probably was. Not a lot of floppy flowers on red toes in Harry's world.

Cedes reached in the bag and handed him a doughnut.

"Thank you, Cedes," Harry said, still channeling abused orphans.

"Don't buy his act," Sam said to Cedes.

"I'm not." Cedes grinned at Harry. "You look like you're doing fine, kid."

"I had to play baseball," Harry said bitterly. "Are those hot dogs?"

"No," Sam said. "You know you're not allowed to have processed meat. Go over there on that bench and eat your doughnut."

"He can eat it here," Cedes said, putting her arm around him protectively. Harry, no dummy, leaned into Cedes' hip.

Bet that's soft, Sam thought, and then realized he was close to being jealous of his eight-year-old nephew.

"Harry," he said warningly, but then his sister-in-law answered her phone. "Harmony? You forgot to pick up your kid."

"Sam," Harmony said in her perfectly modulated tones. "It was your brother's turn."

"He's not here," Sam said.

Harmony sighed. "Poor Harry. I'll be right there. Thank you, Sam."

"Anything for you, babe." Sam shut off his phone and looked over at Harry. "Your mother is coming. Look on the bright side, you get a doughnut and your mother, instead of nothing and your father."

"Two doughnuts," Harry said.

"Harry, you will barf," Sam said. "You can't have two doughnuts. Now go away. This is a date. Seven years from now, you will understand what that means."

"This isn't a date," Cedes said. "He can stay."

Harry nodded at her sadly. "It's okay."

"Oh, come off it, Harrison," Sam said, knowing Harry was milking the situation. "You have a doughnut. Go over on that bench and eat it."

"All right." Harry trailed disconsolately across the grass to a nearby Lutyens bench, his doughnut clutched in his grubby little hand.

"He's so cute," Cedes said, laughing softly. "Who's Harmony?"

"My sister-in-law," Sam said, watching Harry, who still looked skinny, grubby, and bitter to him. "I don't see the cute part. But he's not a bad kid." Sam picked up a doughnut. "Your turn, Jones."

Cedes leaned back. "Oh no. No, no, no."

He leaned forward to wave it under her nose. "Come on, sin a little."

"I hate you," Cedes said, her eyes on the doughnut. "You are a beast and a vile seducer." Sam lifted an eyebrow. "All that for one doughnut? Come on. One won't kill you."

"I am not eating a doughnut," Cedes said, tearing her eyes away from it. "Are you crazy? There are twelve grams of fat in one of those. I have three weeks to lose twenty pounds. Get away from me."

"This is not just a doughnut," Sam said, tearing it in two pieces under Cedes's eyes, the chocolate icing and glaze breaking like frost, the tender pastry pulling apart in shreds. "This is a chocolate-iced Krispy Kreme glazed. This is the caviar of doughnuts, the Dom Perignon of doughnuts, the Mercedes-Benz of doughnuts."

Cedes licked her lips. "I had no idea you were a pastry freak," she said, trying to pull back farther, but the wind blew her skirt over to Sam again, and this time he moved his knee to pin it down. He broke a bite-size piece from one of the halves. "Taste it," he said, leaning still closer to hold the piece under her nose. "Come on."

"No." Cedes clamped her lips shut, and then shut her eyes, too, screwing up her face as she did.

"Oh, that's adult." He reached out and pinched her nose shut, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he popped the doughnut in.

"Oh, God," she said, and her face relaxed as the pastry melted in her mouth, her smile curling across her face.

Sam relaxed, too, and thought, Feeding this woman is like getting her drunk. Then she swallowed and opened her eyes, and he held out another piece so he could see that expression again. "Come here, Jones."

"No," Cedes said, pulling back. "No, no, no."

"You say that a lot," Sam said. "But the look in your eyes says you want it."

"What I want and what I can have are two different things." Cedes leaned back farther, stretching her skirt, but her eyes were on the doughnut. "Get that thing away from me."

"Okay." Sam sat back and bit into it while she watched, the sugar rush distracting him for a moment until Cedes bit her lip, her strong white teeth denting the softness there. His heart picked up speed, and she shook her head at him.

"Bastard," she said.

He bit into the doughnut again, and she said, "That's enough, I'm out of here," and leaned forward to pull her skirt out from under him. "Would you get off—" she began, and he popped another piece of doughnut in her mouth and watched as her lips closed over the sweetness.

Her face was beautifully blissful, her mouth soft and pouted, her full lower lip glazed with icing, and as she teased the last of the chocolate from her lip, Sam heard a rushing in his ears. The rush became a whisper— **THIS one**—and he breathed deeper, and before she could open her eyes, he leaned in and kissed her, tasting the chocolate and the heat of her mouth, and she froze for a moment and then kissed him back, sweet and insistent, blanking out all coherent thought. He let the taste and the scent and the warmth of her wash over him, drowning in her, and when she finally pulled back, he almost fell into her lap. She sat across from him, her sweater rising and falling under quick breaths, her dark eyes flashing, wide awake, her lush lips parted, open for him, and then she spoke.

"More," she breathed and he looked into her eyes and went for her.


	6. Chapter 5 Part 1

**A/N: The face claim for Janette Jones is Lynn Whitfield if you wanted a visual to love to hate. George Jones' face claim is Martin Lawrence (acting like the dad he was in _Bad Boys franchise_)...Yep, _A Thin Line Between Love and Hate _casting and my feelings regarding Cedes and her mom; Cedes and Sam; and Sam and his almost entire family (Harmony and Harry excluded). The psycho exes are back but nothing triggering about their conversation just their true colors being exposed. As always I am only readapting this story from someone else and only the mistakes are mine.**

**Chapter Five-Part 1**

Sam's eyes were as green as emeralds and Cedes panicked as he leaned close again. She put her hand on his chest, and said, "No, wait," and he looked down and said, "Right," and picked up another piece of doughnut. She opened her mouth to say, "No," and he slipped the piece in and the heat of her mouth dissolved the icing as she closed her eyes, and the tang went everywhere, melting into pleasure. And when she opened her eyes, he was there.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly, his mouth fitting hers so perfectly that she trembled. She tasted the heat of him and licked the chocolate off his lip and felt his tongue against hers, hot and devastating, and when he broke the kiss, she was breathless and dizzy and aching for more. He held her eyes, looking as dazed as she felt, but she wasn't deceived at all, she knew what he was.

She just didn't care right now.

"More," she said, and he reached for the pastry, but she said, "No, you," and grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, and he kissed her harder this time, his hand on the back of her head, and she fell into him, as glitter exploded behind her eyelids. She felt his hand on her waist, sliding hot under her sweater approaching and touching no squeezing her achy breasts, and her blood surged, and the rush in her head said **THIS one**.

Then he jerked forward and smacked into her.

"Ouch?" she said, and he looked behind him, still clutching her with both hands.

"What the hell ?" Sam said.

"I said," Holly said, holding up her leather purse, "what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I cut my mouth," Cedes said, touching her finger to her lip. Sam's teeth had ground into her lip from the impact.

Sam turned back to her and pulled her finger away, his face flushed and concerned, and he was so close to her that she leaned forward as he was going to lick her lip and her heart pounded, and he did, too, his eyes half closed again, and she thought, o_h, God, yes_. Then Holly jerked at Cedes' arm and almost pulled her off the table.

"Get down from there, Stats," Holly said as Cedes' head reeled.

"Hunter," Sam said through his teeth.

"Sorry, pal," Hunter said. "She's uncontrollable."

"We were just having dessert." Cedes scooted back as far as she could with Sam still sitting on her skirt. _I know that was dumb_, she thought, trying not to look at him,_ but I want that again_.

"Dessert?" Holly looked down at the table. "You're eating doughnuts?"

"Oh," Cedes said, guilt clearing some of her haze.

"Who are you?" Sam glared at Holly. "The calorie police? Go away."

"No," Holly said. "I think she should eat all the doughnuts she wants. I just don't want you feeding them to her."

"Why?" Sam said savagely.

"Because you are Hit-and-Run Evans, and she's my best friend." Holly tugged on Cedes' arm again."Come on. Marley's waiting."

"I'm what?" Sam asked.

Cedes tried to scoot back a little more, but Sam was still on her skirt. _Which is all right, really_. She thought.

"Marley's over there on a park bench talking to Ryder," Hunter said to Holly. "She could care less."

"Couldn't care less," Holly said. "And she could." She fixed Cedes with a stare. "We've talked about this. Get off that table."

_Right_, Cedes thought. _I don't want to_.

Across from her, Sam looked even more gorgeous than usual, engaged in the sunlight, but as the haze lifted, she remembered why she wasn't supposed to be there. "Could I have my skirt back, please?" she said, faintly, and he rolled back enough that she could pull the fabric free. "Thank you very much. For lunch. I had a wonderful time."

"Stay," he said, and she looked into his eyes and thought, o_h, yes_.

"No," Holly said and pulled Cedes off the table so that she stumbled onto the grass.

"She can make up her own mind," Sam said.

"Yeah?" Holly took a step closer to him. "Tell me you know her. Tell me you care about her. Tell me you're going to love her until the end of time."

"Holly," Cedes said, tugging on her arm.

"I just met her three days ago," Sam said.

"Then what are you doing kissing her like that in a public place?" Holly turned her back on him. "Come on, Cedes."

"Thank you for lunch," Cedes said as Holly tightened her grip. She reached back for her sandals on the table and caught the ribbons, and then Holly dragged her away through the trees.

When they were gone, Sam turned to Hunter and said, "I can't decide whether to have you killed or do it myself."

"Not me, Holly," Hunter said. "And she did call Cedes' name several times and poke you in the side a couple of times before she whacked you in the back of the head with her purse." His eyes went to the table. "Hey, hot dogs." He sat on the table and reached for a sandwich.

"That woman is insane," Sam said, rubbing the back of his head. The heat was subsiding now that Cedes was gone, but it wasn't making him any happier. "That was an assault."

"She's insane?" Hunter said as he unwrapped a brat. "How about you?"

"It wasn't that big a deal." _Ten minutes more and we would have been naked and I would have been inside her stroking into her heat and making the both of us experience the joys of hot uncontrollable lust. That would have been a big deal._

"Tell that to Harry," Hunter said. "That was probably more than he needed to know about what Uncle Sam does with his free time."

"Harry?" Sam said and looked over to where Harry had been sitting. He was still there, only now there was a woman with him. Harmony. Sam closed his eyes and the memory of Cedes' heat vanished. "Tell me Harmony wasn't watching us, too."

"Don't know. She wasn't there when we got here so she may just have caught the big finish. What the hell am I sitting on?" He pulled a red-flowered shoe out from under the blanket.

"Cedes' shoe," Sam said, getting a nice flashback to her toes. "Give it to Holly when you get the chance. Down her throat, if possible."

"Yeah, like I'll remember," Hunter said and tossed it in the cooler.

Sam dug it out again before the ice could get the flower wet and tried to get his mind off Cedes. "It turns out that Marley's a good person so Ryder's okay." He turned Cedes' sandal around in his hand. It was a ridiculous thing with a little stacked heel that probably sank into the ground when she walked across the grass and that dopey flower that would get screwed up if she wore them in the rain, and that was a turn-on, too.

"Ryder's not okay," Hunter said around a mouthful of the brat. "He's going to get married."

"It's not a death sentence," Sam said, trying to imagine why anybody as practical as Cedes would wear a shoe like that. But then Cedes clearly had an impractical streak or she wouldn't have frenched him on a picnic table. The rush he got from that blanked out sound for a moment. "What?" he said.

"I said, yes, that's why you're running like a rabbit from Lucy Quinn," Hunter said.

"Well, marriage is not for me, but it's probably for Ryder," Sam said, dropping the shoe on the table."He's never been big on excitement."

"True," Hunter said. "And if Marley is a nice woman, maybe I'll live over their garage after all."

"More good news for me," Sam said, and thought of Cedes again, full and hot under his hands— No. He didn't need any more hostility in his life. If he wanted great sex, he could always go back to Lucy Quinn, who at least was never bitchy. He tried to call up Lucy Quinn's memory to blot out Cedes', but she seemed gray and white next to Cedes' lush, exasperating, heat-inducing, open-toed technicolor.

"What?" Hunter said.

"Are there any hot dogs left?" Sam said. "That you haven't sat on?" Hunter found one under a fold in the blanket and passed it over, and Sam unwrapped it and bit into it, determined to concentrate on a sense that wasn't permeated with Cedes. Then he remembered her face when she'd tasted the brat, and imagined her face like that with her body moving under his, hot and lush, her lips wet—_Oh, hell_, he thought.

"So what are you going to tell Harry?" Hunter said.

"About what?"

"About you doing Cedes on a picnic table," Hunter said. "You guys looked pretty hot. I mean you could have sold tickets for a live sex show hotness and made major bank."

"I'm going to tell him I'll explain it when he's older," Sam said, and thought, W_e were hot. And now we're done_. "Much older," he said and went back to the cooler for a beer.

* * *

"Okay, why did we have to leave?" Marley said when they were in Holly's convertible and Cedes was banished to the backseat.

"Because Cedes was swapping tongues with a doughnut pusher." Holly looked back over the seat at Cedes the sinner and shook her head.

Marley turned so she could see over the seat, too. "You ate doughnuts?"

"Yes," Cedes said, still trying to fight her way back from blissed out from Sam's kisses. "Big deal."

Marley nodded as Holly started the car. "Was he a good kisser?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Pretty good. Very good. World class. Phenomenal. Woke me right up. Plus there were the doughnuts, which were amazing." She thought about Sam again, all that heat and urgency, and as Holly started down the curving drive to the street, Cedes lay down on the back seat before she fell over from residual dizziness. It felt good to lie down but it was such a shame she was alone.

"Have you lost your mind?" Holly said, over the seat.

"Just for that minute or two," Cedes said from the seat, watching the treetops move by overhead "I kind of enjoyed it." A lot.

"You know," Marley said to Holly, "he might be legit. He looked really happy with her. Ryder even said so."

"Oh. well if Ryder says so," Holly said.

"Don't make fun of Ryder," Marley said, warning in her voice.

"Okay," Cedes said, sitting up again as her world steadied. "I'm fine now. Very practical." She picked up her shoe to untangle the ribbons. "So how was Hunter?"

"Mildly amusing," Holly said. "Stop changing the subject. What are you going to do about Sam?"

"Not see him again," Cedes said, looking for her second sandal. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I left a shoe behind. We have to go back."

"No," Holly said and kept driving.

"They're my favorite shoes," Cedes said, trying to sound sincere.

"All your shoes are favorite shoes," Holly said, "We're not going back there."

"Are you okay, honey?" Marley said to Cedes.

"I'm great," Cedes said, nodding like a maniac. "Sam told me all about Ryder. You have my blessing."

"Based on Samuel the Beast's say-so," Holly said.

"I have ways of telling," Cedes said. "I know how to handle him."

"Yeah, I saw you handling him," Holly said. "You're weak those guppy lips had you 'lip-notized'."

"Oh, come on," Cedes said, guilt making her exasperated. "I heard the bet. I know what's going on. I'm not seeing him again. Especially since you yelled at him and called him names." She thought about Sam leaning close, how hard his chest had been against her hand, how hot his mouth had been on hers, how good his hand had felt on her breasts. "I found out how he gets all those women, though," she said brightly. "Turns out it's not just his charm."

"Maybe you should see him again," Marley said, sounding thoughtful. "I think sometimes you just have to believe."

_That might be good_, Cedes thought.

"Marley", Holly said. "Do you want her to get mutilated by the same guy who broke your cousin's heart and made that bet with Anthony?"

_That would be bad,_ Cedes thought.

"No," Marley said, doubt in her voice.

"Then no more pep talks about believing in toads," Holly said.

"Don't they turn into princes when you kiss them?" Marley said.

"That's frogs," Holly said. "Entirely different species."

"Right," Cedes said, trying to shove Sam out of her mind. "Toad not a frog. Beast. Absolutely." Then she sighed and said, "But he really had great doughnuts, great lips, and great hands," and lay back down on the seat again to recover her good sense.

* * *

Anthony was settling down in front of the television on Sunday afternoon when the phone rang. He picked it up and heard Lucy Quinn's voice. "Sam and Cedes were in the park today," she said. "He kissed her. That's joy, it's a physiological cue, that could push them into—"

"Wait," Anthony said and took a deep breath. It was that damn bet. Sam would do anything to win that bet.

"He fed her doughnuts," Lucy Quinn said. "He took her on a picnic and—"

"Cedes ate doughnuts?" Anthony went cold at the thought. "Cedes doesn't eat doughnuts. Cedes doesn't eat carbs. She never ate carbs with me."

"And every time he fed her a piece, he kissed her."

"Sonofabitch," Anthony said, viciously. "What do we do?"

"We have to work on their attraction triggers, create joy, make them remember why they wanted us," Lucy Quinn said. "Take her to lunch tomorrow. Make it perfect. Make her feel special and loved, give her joy, and get her back ."

"I don't know," Anthony said, remembering Cedes's face when he'd dumped her. The idea was for her to come crawling back to him, not for him to go to her.

"I'll have lunch with Sam," Lucy Quinn said as if he hadn't spoken. "I've been lying low, hoping he'd come back on his own, but there's no time for that now. I'll have him in bed before dessert, and that should finish the whole thing."

"Cedes's mad at me," Anthony said. "I think it's too soon for lunch."

"Oh, that's very aggressive." There was a long silence and then

Lucy Quinn said, "Her family. Did you say she needs them to approve of her lovers?"

"Yes," Anthony said. "Her mother was crazy about me."

"There you go," Lucy Quinn said. "Call her mother and tell her the truth about Sam and women."

"No," Anthony said, remembering Janette's lack of focus on anything not involving calories or fashion."Her sister's fiance. Jake. I'll call him tonight."

"How will that help?"

"He'll tell Bree right away," Anthony said. "He sees her every night. And she lives with her parents, so she'll tell her mother and father. Her father is very protective."

"That's good," Lucy Quinn said.

"He fed her doughnuts?" Anthony said, wincing at the thought.

"One piece at a time," Lucy Quinn said.

He was doing it for that damn bet. After all that big talk about being cheap but not slimy, he was going to seduce Cedes with doughnuts and then come back to collect his ten thousand bucks. The great Samuel Evans wins again. Not if I have anything to do about it.

"Anthony?" Lucy Quinn said.

"Trust me," Anthony said, grimly. "Cedes just ate her last doughnut."

* * *

On Monday, Ryder came in late to work. Marley, Sam thought, which made him think of Cedes, which was ridiculous.

"What is this?" Hunter said. "I'm always the last one in for work. It's a tradition."

"Marley." Ryder yawned as he sat down at his desk. "We talked pretty late last night."

"Talked," Hunter said, sitting on the edge of the work table. "The least you could do is get laid." Ryder narrowed his eyes.

"Okay, now that we're all here—" Sam said.

"I'm going to marry Marley," Ryder told Hunter. "You don't talk like that about the woman you marry."

"Sorry," Hunter said. "I'm never getting married so I wouldn't know."

"—we need to block out the Winston seminar—"

"You'll know when you find the right woman," Ryder said.

"No such female," Hunter said.

"—and get the packets done," Sam said, raising his voice.

"She has a perfect kiss," Ryder said, looking out the window, probably in what he thought was Marley's direction. "Did you ever kiss like that, where everything was exactly right and it just blew the top of your head off?"

"No," Hunter said, looking revolted.

"Yes," Sam said, Cedes coming back to him in all her hot and yielding glory. They both turned to look at him, and he said, "Can we go to work now? Because we're about a minute away from breaking out the ice cream and talking about our feelings, and I don't think we can come back from that."

"I'll get on the invoices," Ryder said and went to his desk.

Sam leaned back in his desk chair, opened a computer file, and thought about Cedes. He'd had no intentions of kissing her and then he'd jumped her, some insane impulse shoving him into her lap. And she'd been no help. She should have slapped the hell out of him and instead there she was, saying "More," egging him on—

The phone rang and Hunter picked it up. "Evans, Clarington, Lynn," he said and then rolled his eyes at Sam. "Hey, Lucy Quinn."

Sam shook his head.

"He's not here," Hunter said. "I think he's gone for the morning." He scowled at Sam, who sighed and leaned back in his chair to look at the ceiling.

"Lunch?" Hunter said. "Sorry, he's got a lunch date. At Rory's. With his new girlfriend." Sam sat up so fast his feet that hit the floor hard. No, he mouthed at Hunter and made a slicing motion across his throat with his hand.

"So you don't have to worry about him being depressed over losing you," Hunter said. "He got right back on the horse."

Sam stood up, rage in his eyes, and Hunter said. "Gotta go," and hung up.

"Are you insane?" Sam said.

"Hey, it got rid of her, didn't it?" Hunter said. "I did you a favor." He frowned. "I think. The whole thing sort of came to me in a flash." He looked at Ryder. "Was that a bad move?"

"I'm not sure," Ryder said. "You might want to stay away from flashes in the future."

"I don't want to see Cedes again," Sam said and thought about seeing Cedes again.

"So? Lucy Quinn doesn't need to know that," Hunter said.

"So now I have to take Cedes to Rory's because Lucy Quinn will check," Sam said.

"I don't see why," Ryder said. "If Lucy Quinn asks, you can say you went someplace else."

"I try to tell as few lies as possible." Sam sat down again, trying to feel exasperated about the whole mess. He picked up the phone and dialed Cedes' company, tracking her down through the switchboard operator, but her phone was busy and voice mail was not an option. Nobody ever talked anybody into lunch on voice mail.

He hung up the phone and saw Ryder and Hunter watching him. "What?"

"Nothing," Ryder said.

"Nothing," Hunter said.

"Good," Sam said and ignored them to go back to his computer screen.

* * *

When her office phone rang, Cedes thought Sam, and then kicked herself. The beast must have the power to cloud women's minds if she was thinking about him at 9 a.m. on a Monday morning in the middle of a prelim report.

"Mercedes Jones," she said into the phone, tapping her red pen on the frosted glass top of her desk.

"Tell me about this man you're dating," her mother said.

"Oh, for crying out loud." Cedes leaned back in her Aeron chair, exasperated.

"Jake says he has a horrible reputation with women," Janette said. "Jake says he uses them and leaves them. Jake says—"

"Mother, I don't care what Jake says," Cedes said over her mother's panic. "And I'm not dating him. We went to dinner and had a picnic in the park and that's it." She wrote Sam's name in block letters on the cover sheet of her report and then drew a heavy red line through it. Gone, gone, gone.

"Jake says—"

"Mother."

"—that he's a heartbreaker. He's worried for you."

Cedes started to say, _oh, pleas_e and stopped. Jake probably was worried about her. Jake worried about everything. Why was Jake worried about her? "How does Jake even know this guy exists?" Cedes said as she wrote "Jake" in red block letters and drew two heavy lines through it. Then she wrote "Dweeb" below that and "Snitch" below that.

"I'm worried for you," her mother was saying. "I know you're being brave about losing Anthony, but I just hate it. I can't stand it if you're hurt."

Cedes felt her throat close. "Who are you and what did you do with my mother?"

"I just don't want you hurt," Janette said, and Cedes thought she heard her voice shake. "I want you married to a good man who will appreciate you for how wonderful you are and not leave you because you're overweight."

Cedes shook her head. "You had me right up to the last line." She wrote "Mother" in block letters, drew a heart around it, and then, while Janette talked on, she drew four heavy lines across it.

"Marriage is hard, Cedes," Janette was saying. "There are a million reasons for them to cheat and leave, so you have to work at it all the time. You have to look good all the time. Men are very visual. If they see something better—"

"Mom?" Cedes said. "I don't think—"

"No matter how hard you work, there's always somebody younger, somebody better," Janette said, her voice trembling. "Even for Bree, for everybody. You can't start with a handicap, you can't—"

"What's going on?" Cedes said. "Is Jake cheating on Bree?"

"No," her mother said, sounding taken aback. "Of course not." Cedes tried to imagine Jake betraying Bree, but it was ridiculous. Jake probably didn't have the gumption to cheat. Plus, he loved Bree.

"Why would you say that?" her mother said. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"You were the one who brought up cheating," Cedes said. _So if not Jake, then who? Dad?_ Cedes rejected that thought, too. Her father had three interests in life: insurance, statistics, and sports. "The only thing Dad would leave your company for besides work is something related to some team he loves to watch, so that's not it. What's going on?"

"I want you married and happy and this Cam isn't—"

"Samuel," Cedes said.

"Bring him to dinner Saturday," Janette said. "Wear something black so you'll look thinner."

"I'm not seeing him, Mother," Cedes said. "That's going to make it doubtful that he'll want to meet my parents."

"Just be careful," her mother said. "I don't know how you find these men."

"He looked down my sweater and saw that red lace bra," Cedes said. "It's all your fault." She spent a few more minutes reassuring Janette, and then she hung up and went back to editing for another five minutes until the phone rang again. "Oh, great," she said and answered it, prepared to argue with her mother again. "Mercedes Jones."

"Cedes, it's Bree," her sister said.

"Hi, sissy," Cedes said. "If this is about Jake ratting out my picnic date, it's okay, it's over, I'm never going to see him again." She drew another line through Jake's name. As far as she was concerned, there couldn't be too many lines through Jake's name.

"Jake says Anthony says he's awful," Bree said.

Cedes sat up a little straighter "Anthony said that, did he?" The rat fink didn't even play fair on his bets. She wrote "Anthony" in big block letters and then stabbed her pen into it.

"He told Jake not to tell me he'd told him," Bree said.

"Right," Cedes said, not bothering to follow that.

"He just doesn't sound like part of your plan," Bree said.

Cedes stopped stabbing. "My plan? What plan?"

"You always have a plan," Bree said. "Like me. I've planned my wedding and my marriage very carefully and Jake fits perfectly. He's perfect for me. We're going to have a perfect life."

"Right," Cedes said, and drew another line through Jake's name.

"So I know you must have a plan and this wolf—"

"Beast," Cedes said.

"—frog, whatever, can't fit your plan."

"He's not a frog," Cedes said. "I kissed him and he did not turn into a prince" He turned into a sexy forbidden desire."Look, I'm never going to see him again, so everybody can relax."

"Good," Bree said. "I'll tell Mom you're being sensible as usual and she won't worry anymore."

"Oh, good," Cedes said. "Sensible as usual. Nobody mentioned this to Dad, did they?"

"Mom might have," Bree said.

"Oh, hell, Bree, why didn't you stop her?" A vision of her overprotective father rose up before her like a papa bear. "You know how he is."

"I know," Bree said. "I'm still not sure he likes Jake."

_Are you sure you like Jake?_ Cedes wanted to say, but there wasn't any point since Bree would insist it was True Love to the death. "Well, good news, I got you a cake—"

"You did?" Bree's voice went up a notch. "Oh, Cedes, thank you—"

"—but it won't be decorated so Marley and I are going to do that with Mom's pearls and a lot of fresh flowers." Cedes began to draw a wedding cake.

"You're going to decorate my cake?" Bree said, her voice flat.

"People are going to love it when they taste it," Cedes said, adding some doves to the top.

"Taste?" Bree said. "What about when they look at it?"

"Are you kidding? Fresh flowers and real pearls? It'll be a sensation." Cedes drew in some pearls. They were easier than doves, and she was experiencing enough difficulty with her morning.

"What does Mom say?"

"Why don't we ask her at the wedding?" Cedes said, keeping her voice chirpy.

"Okay," Bree said, taking a deep breath into the phone. "I really am grateful. And it's good that it'll taste good, too. For the cake boxes and everything."

"Cake boxes?" Cedes said.

"The little boxes of cake that the guests take home for souvenirs," Bree said. "To dream on."

"Cake boxes," Cedes said and began to draw little squares. "Two hundred. You bet."

"You didn't get cake boxes?"

"Yes," Cedes said, drawing boxes faster. "I got cake boxes. Will you relax? You sound like you're strung up on wires. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Bree said, with too much emphasis.

"No trouble with Wet and Worse?" Cedes said and then winced. "I mean Kitty and Rachel?"

Bree laughed. "I can't believe you said that."

"I'm sorry," Cedes said. "It's ..."

"Cedes, we know about it. Rachel overheard Holly say it back when we were in high school. She calls Marley and Holly Sweet and Tart."

Cedes laughed in spite of herself.

"Don't tell them," Bree said. "I'll go on pretending you don't call Kitty and Rachel Wet and Worse if you'll go on pretending we don't call Marley and Holly Sweet and Tart."

"Deal," Cedes said. "God, we're horrible people."

"Not us," Bree said cheerfully. "It's Tart and Worse who made this stuff up. We didn't come up with those names we just agree with them and use them."

"I think that depends on who you ask," Cedes said, thinking of Sam. She had to remember to be nicer to him. Except she wasn't going to see him again so it didn't matter. Also, when she was nice to him in the park, it went badly. "I've been really bitchy lately..." Her voice trailed off as her father stood in the doorway, looking like an anxious king. "Hi, Daddy."

"Oh, no," Bree said.

"I'll talk to you later," Cedes said to Bree and hung up. "So, what brings you down here?" she said to her dad. "Air get too thin on the fortieth floor?"

"About this man you're seeing," George Jones said, glowering at his daughter as he came into her office.

"Don't even try it," Cedes said. "I know you have junior account executives for breakfast, but that doesn't work with me. I'm not seeing Sam anymore, but if I were, it would be my choice. Come on, Dad." She smiled at him, but his face stayed worried. "Two and a half million people get married every year in this country. Why not me?"

"Marriage isn't for everybody, Cedes," he said.

"Daddy?" Cedes said, taken aback.

"This man is not a good man," George said.

"Now wait just a minute," Cedes said. "You don't even know him. He was a perfect gentleman both times we went out—" Well, there were hands in the park. "—and since we've decided not to see each other again, it's pretty much not a problem."

"Good." Her father's face cleared. "Good for you. That's smart. Why take chances with a man you know isn't a good risk?"

"I'm not selling him insurance," Cedes said.

"I know, Cedes," he said. "But it's the same principle. You're not a gambler. You're too sensible for that." He smiled at her, patted her hand, and left, and Cedes sat at her desk and felt dull, frumpy, and boring. Not a gambler. Sensible as usual. She let herself think about kissing Sam in the park, his mouth hot on hers, his hands hard on her, and she felt the heat rise all over again. That hadn't been sensible, that hadn't been a plan. And now she was never going to see him again.

She looked down at her report and realized she'd perforated it. She must have been stabbing it, the Norman Bates of statistical analysis. "Great," she said and tried to pull the pages apart. The top sheet ripped, and her phone rang, and she picked it up and snarled, "Mercedes Jones," ready to perforate the caller this time.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry no smut yet they have only known each other less than a week and Sam hasn't earned it until he is honest with Cedes about the sexual bet even though in his mind, Anthony was drunk and there was no bet. So until that's out in the open there will be no loving but lots of sexual tension and getting to know each other. But smexy times will happen I promise almost all the characters except maybe four are redeemed by the end. Thank God for Holly she is truly a woman of her word at the beginning of this chapter LOL. I am like yes, Holly there is a child present this is a public park your girl is about to be arrested for public indecency if Sam had his way. I do appreciate all of you who take the time to read, review, follow, and favorite. I am going to stop typing and start editing part two of this hot mess.**


	7. Chapter 5-Part 2

**A/N: Same author's note as part one except no Anthony, Quinn, or Mama Jones so no warnings. Thanks for the support and all those who are continuing to read and those who just found this story.**

**Chapter Five-Part 2**

"Good morning, Mercedes," Sam said, and all the air rushed out of Cedes' lungs. "How did you get that name?"

Breathe. Deep breaths. Very deep breaths.

"Oh," she said. "This is good. Grief about my name from a guy named Samuel."_ I do not care that he called. I am totally unaffected by this._ Her heart was pounding so loudly she was convinced he could hear it over the phone.

"I was named after my rich Uncle Robert," Sam said, "which turned out to be a total waste when he left everything to the whales. What's your excuse?"

"My mother wanted a daughter destined for the luxurious things in life," Cedes said faintly.

"Well, she got one," Sam said. "I take it back, it's the perfect name for you."

"And my father's mother was named Mercy Deanna," Cedes said, trying to get back to offhand and unfazed. "It was a compromise. Why isn't your name Robert?"

"I got his first name as my middle name and his last name as my first name," Sam said. "Which is good. I don't see myself as a Bob."

"Bob Evans over Samuel Robert Evans." Cedes leaned back in her chair, pretending to be cool. "Bob Evans is the name of that restaurant on Harding Highway. You'd have the name of a restaurant or someone who farms."

"Or the name of the politician that you can trust," Sam said.

"The used car salesman you can't," Cedes said.

"Whereas Samuel Robert Evans is the old fart who started the company in 1855," Sam said. "Or in this case, the guy who has your shoe."

"Shoe?"

"Red ribbons, funky heel, big dopey flower."

"My shoe." Cedes sat up, delighted. "I didn't think I'd ever see it again."

"Well, you won't unless you come to lunch with me," Sam said. "I'm holding it for ransom. There's a gun to its heel right now."

"I have lunch at my desk," Cedes began, and thought, _Oh, for crying out loud, could I be any more pathetic?_

"Rory is experimenting with a lunch menu. He needs you. I need you."

"I can't," Cedes said while every fiber in her being said, _Yes, yes, anything._ Thank God her fiber couldn't talk.

"You can't let Rory down," Sam went on. "He loves you. We'll have chicken marsala. Come on, live a little. A very little."

A very little. Even Sam knew she was a sensible, non-gambling, plan-ridden loser. "Yes," Cedes said, her heart starting to pound again. "I would love to get my shoe back and have chicken marsala for lunch."

"Keep in mind, you have to eat it with me," Sam said. "You're not seeing that shoe until you eat."

"I can stand that," Cedes said, and felt lighter all over. Then she hung up and looked at her report. She'd been drawing hearts on it, tiny ones, dozens of them.

"Oh, my Lord," Cedes said and put her head on her desk.

* * *

When Cedes got to Rory's, a dark-haired teenage boy at the door said, "You looking for Sam?" and when she nodded, said, "He's at your table," and jerked his head into the restaurant.

"I have a table?" Cedes said, but then she saw Sam sitting by the window at the table they'd had Wednesday night, and she lost her breath for a minute. _I keep forgetting how beautiful he is_, she thought and watched as he sat relaxed in his chair, his green eyes fixed on the street outside, his profile perfect. He was tapping his fingers on the table, and his hands looked strong and Cedes remembered how good they'd felt on her and thought, _Get out of here_. Then he saw her and straightened and smiled, his eyes lighting as if he were glad to see her, and she smiled back and went to meet him. Charm Boy, she thought and slowed down again, but he already had her chair pulled out for her.

"Thanks for coming," he said, and she slid into the chair thinking, _He's up to something, be careful._ Then she noticed him looking at the floor and said, "What?" her voice cracking with nerves.

"Shoes," he said. "What are you wearing?"

"You sound like an obscene phone call," she said, trying to keep her treacherous voice steady, but she stuck her foot out so he could see her blue reptile slides, open-toed to show off the matching blue nail polish.

He shook his head. "You can do better. The toes are nice, though."

"These are work shoes," she said, annoyance clearing up her nerves. "Also, you have my red shoe so I couldn't wear those. Can I have my shoe back?"

"Not until after lunch," he said, sitting down across from her. "It's my only leverage."

"Have you had this foot fetish long?" she said, as he passed her the bread basket.

"Just since I met you," he said. "Suddenly, there's a whole new world out there."

"Glad to know I've made an impact," she said and was appalled to realize that she really was. It was enough to make her nerves come back. He doesn't matter. She shoved the bread basket back to him, determined to be virtuous in consumption if not in thought, and said, "So who's the charmer at the door? He needs lessons from you."

"Rory's nephew." Sam picked up a piece of bread and broke it. "His tableside manner could use some work."

"Doesn't Rory have somebody else to put up front?" Cedes picked up her napkin to keep her hands off the bread. "He can't be good for business."

"Myron's the most socially adept one in the family; he was adopted in fact they all were, Myron just came from a more affluent home and lost his parents in an accident," Sam said. "His brothers are back in the kitchen where they won't hurt anybody. Fortunately, they can cook. I already ordered. Salad, chicken marsala, no pasta."

"Oh, good," Cedes said, "because I'm starving. Did you know that forty percent of all pasta sold is spaghetti?" Geek, she thought and tried to suppress her statistical instinct while she smiled at him. "I think that shows a huge lack of imagi—"

Myron slung a salad in front of her and another in front of Sam. "Your chicken's up in about fifteen," he told Sam. "You want wine with that?"

"Yes, please," Sam said to him. "I thought you were working on your finesse."

"Not with you," Myron said. "I know it's chicken, but for you, red wine, right?"

"Right," Sam said. "Now ask me what kind of red."

"Whatever Rory puts in the glass," Myron said and left.

"Just a little ray of sunshine," Cedes said. "But enough about him. Give me the ten bucks."

"Ten bucks?" Sam looked beautifully blank and then shook his head. "There wasn't a bet. Stop harassing me for cash."

"You asked me out without a bet?" Cedes said more than asked.

"No money will change hands," Sam said. "Except for me paying the tab."

"We can go Dutch," Cedes offered.

"No, we can't."

"Why not? I can afford it. We're not dating. Why—"

"I invited you, I pay," Sam said, his face beginning to set into that stubborn look that exasperated her.

"That means if I invite you, I pay," Cedes said.

"No, I will pay then, too," Sam said. "So tell me who Bree, Wet, and Worse are."

"That's why you invited me to lunch?" Cedes said, infusing her voice with as much skepticism as possible.

"No." Sam put his head in his hands. "Could we just for once meet like regular people? Smile at each other, make small talk, pretend you don't hate me?"

"I don't hate you," Cedes said, shocked. "I might actually like you. I mean, you have a lot of flaws—"

"What flaws?" Sam said. "Of course I have them, but I've been on my best behavior with you. Except for hitting you in the eye and attacking you on a picnic table. By the way, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Cedes said, putting as much chipper as she could into her voice. "I'm turning over a new leaf. Taking risks. Like having lunch with a wolf."

"I'm a wolf?" Sam said.

"Oh, please," Cedes said. "You picked me up on Friday with 'Hello, little girl.' Who else did you think you were channeling?"

Rory appeared with wine before Sam could say anything, and Cedes beamed at him, grateful for the rescue. "Rory, my darling. I forgot to mention the cake boxes. Two hundred cake boxes."

"Already on it," Rory said. "Nonna said you'd need them. She said to get four-inch-square boxes for three-inch-square cakes."

"I'm getting the boxes," Cedes said, nodding. "Sure. Great. Fine. Your grandmother is an angel and you are my hero. And of course, a genius with food."

"And you are my favorite customer." Rory kissed her cheek and disappeared back into the kitchen.

"I love him," she told Sam.

"I noticed," Sam said. "Been seeing him behind my back, have you?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "We've been having conversations about cake."

"Whoa," Sam said. "For you, that's talking dirty."

"Funny." Cedes stabbed her salad again and bit into the crisp greens. Rory's dressing was tangy and light, a miracle all by itself. "God, I love Rory. This salad is fabulous. Which is not a word I usually use with 'salad.'"

"Tell me about the cake," Sam said, starting on his own salad.

"My sister Bree is getting married in three weeks," Cedes said, glad to be on a topic that wasn't dangerous. "Her fiance said he knew this great baker and that he would order the cake as a surprise. And then the surprise turned out to be that he hadn't ordered the cake."

"And the wedding's still on?" Sam said.

"Yes. My sister says it's her fault for not reminding him."

"Your sister does not sound like you," Sam said.

"My sister is my exact opposite," Cedes said. "She's perfect according to my mother."

Sam frowned. "Which makes you what?"

"Me?" Cedes stopped eating, surprised. "I'm okay my father's daughter according to her."

Sam shook his head as Rory appeared with a steaming platter of chicken marsala. When he and Cedes had assured each other of their undying devotion, he left, and Sam served chicken and mushrooms. "So how do Wet and Worse figure in this cake story?"

"They don't," Cedes said. "Except that they're my sister's bridesmaids. But do not tell anybody I called them that." She ate her first bite of chicken, savoring it, and then teased an errant drop of sauce from her lower lip. "Do you think—"

"Don't do that," Sam said, his voice flat.

"What?" Cedes blinked at him. "Ask questions?"

"Lick your lip. What were you going to ask me?"

"Why? Bad manners?" Cedes said, dangerously.

"No," Sam said. "It distracts me. You have a great mouth. I know. I was there up close and on those gorgeous lips once. What were you going to ask me?"

Cedes met his eyes, and he stared back, unblinking. _Oh_, she thought and tried to remember what they'd been talking about, but it was hard because all she could think about was how he'd been there once, and how good he'd felt, and how hot his eyes were on her now, and how much she—

"You guys okay?" Myron said.

"What?" Sam said, jerking his head up.

"Is there something wrong with the chicken?" Myron frowned at them both. "You guys looked strange."

"No," Cedes said, picking up her fork again. "The chicken is wonderful."

"Okay," Myron said. "You need anything else?"

"A waiter with some class?" Sam said.

"Yeah, right, like I'd waste that on you," Myron said and wandered off.

"So anyway," Cedes said, scrambling for a safer topic, "when Bree told me about the cake, I turned to Rory in my hour of need, and he called his grandmother. So he's my hero."

"Wait'll you taste the cake," Sam said. "She only makes it for weddings and it's like nothing else in this world."

"When did you eat wedding cake?" Cedes said.

"When Rory got married," Sam said. "When my brother got married. When everybody I've ever known got married. Hunter, Ryder, and I are the last hold-outs, so there have been a lot of weddings. And now Ryder's going down for the count."

"Well, at least you and Hunter will have each other," Cedes said brightly. "So you have a brother. Younger or older?"

"Older. Steven Reynolds."

Cedes stopped eating. "Steven? Steven Reynolds Evans?"

"Yes," Sam said. "Husband to Harmony, father to Harry."

"Isn't there a fancy law firm called Reynolds Evans?"

"Yes," Sam said. "My father, his partner, John Reynolds, and my brother. My brother actually likes to go by Steven Reynolds as his name ever since the law firm became successful and especially when he made junior partner. When we were little he was just Stevie. It's a trend in my family to go by two names like one is not enough." He didn't sound too thrilled about any of them.

"Cozy, for him, I am glad you buck the trend, Sam is more than enough," Cedes said. "So how is Harry my favorite Evans?"

"Unfortunately, he is permanently scarred from watching us making out on a picnic table."

Cedes winced. "Really?"

"Hard to say. I haven't seen him since. Harmony probably has him in therapy by now. So what's your take on Marley and Ryder?"

"They'll be engaged before fall," Cedes said, and they began to discuss Marley and Ryder and other safe topics for the rest of the meal.

When they were finished and Sam had signed the charge slip, he said, "So lunch with me is risky. Does that mean you need an apology for our last lunch?"

"No." Cedes smiled and tried to look unfazed. "I've been working on the theory that if we don't talk about it, it didn't happen. Although a lot of people seem to know about it. Jake, for example. He ratted us out, and now my mother wants you to come to dinner." Sam looked taken aback for a minute, and she said, "I told her you were a complete stranger so dinner was unlikely." Then out of the blue, she blurted, "So what was that on Saturday?"

"Well." Sam took a deep breath. "That was chemistry. And it was phenomenal. I'd be more than interested in doing that again over and over again, especially somewhere private with the both of us naked and horizontal, but—"

Cedes' pulse picked up, but she slapped herself on the forehead to forestall him and her own treacherous imagination.

"What?" he said.

"I'm remembering why you never ask guys to tell you the truth," she said. "Because sometimes they do."

"My point is," Sam said, "that Holly was right, I had no business kissing you like that because I don't want anything that serious. I just got out of a relationship that was a lot more intense than I'd realized and—"

Cedes frowned. "How could it have been more intense than you'd realized?"

"I thought we were just having a good time," Sam said. "She thought we were getting married. It ended okay, there are no hard feelings—"

Cedes looked at him in amazement. "She wanted to get married, you didn't, but there are no hard feelings."

"She said if I wasn't ready to commit, she'd have to move on," Sam said. "It was pretty cut and dried."

"And you're the guy who's supposed to be a wizard at understanding women. It was so not cut and dried. Trust me when I tell you this, she either hates you, or she thinks you're coming back to her."

Sam shook his head. "Lucy Quinn's very practical. She knows it's over. And so are we because, even though it was great, this is not something either one of us wants to pursue."

"Right," Cedes said, understanding completely if not happily. "It would be different if we were at all compatible. I'm not averse to commitment especially if it'd be that much fun, but the last thing I need is to fall for somebody I already know is no good for me just because he kisses me as nobody else has. Also, I'm waiting for the reincarnation of Tupac and you are not him. But—"

She stopped because Sam had a strange look on his face.

"What?" she said. "I was just kidding about Tupac."

"I'm no good for you," he said, "but I kissed you as nobody else has before?"

Cedes considered it. "Pretty much. Why? Did you have a different take on it?"

Sam opened his mouth and then stopped and shrugged. "I guess not. I don't think you'd be bad for me, I just can't take the hassle. You're not a peaceful woman."

"This is true," Cedes said. "But you ask for it. You're such a beastly wolf."

"I'm retired," Sam said. "All I want now is some peace and quiet. I just need a break."

"That's my plan," Cedes said. "I'm taking a break from dating."

"Until Tupac shows up," Sam said.

"Right. As far as I can see, there's no downside to this at all."

"No sex," Sam said.

"I can stand that," Cedes said.

"Yeah, you're good at denying yourself things."

"Hey," Cedes said, insulted. "We were doing just fine there and then you had to take a shot at me."

"Sorry," Sam said.

They got up to go, Cedes kissed Rory good-bye, and they went out into the street.

"Okay, it's broad daylight and my office is only six blocks away," Cedes said. "You don't have to walk me."

"Fair enough." Sam held out his hand. "We'll probably meet again at Ryder and Marley's wedding. In case we don't, have a nice life."

Cedes shook his hand and dropped it. "Likewise. Best of luck in the future."

She turned to go and he said, "Wait a minute," and made her heart lurch. But when she turned around, he was holding her shoe, the red ribbons fluttering in the light breeze.

"Right," she said, taking it. "Thank you very much."

He held on to it for a moment, looking into her eyes, and then he shook his head and said, "You're welcome" and let go, and she set off down the street without looking back, full of excellent food but not nearly as happy as she should have been.

_Charm Boy who is a beast who bets on you and is no good for you_, she thought and put him out of her mind.

* * *

On Tuesday, Cedes looked at the salad on her desk at lunch and thought, There has to be more to life than this. It was Sam's fault; she'd had real food in the middle of the day and it had tainted her. Until Sam, she'd never thought about food except as something she couldn't have. Even before she'd started dieting for the bridesmaid's dress, there'd been no butter in her life. There should be butter, she thought, and then realized the folly of that.

But there could be chicken marsala.

Cedes shoved her salad to one side, logged onto the net, and did a search for "chicken marsala" because doing a search for "Sam Evans" would not have been helpful to her damn plan.

"Very popular dish," she said when she got over twelve million matches. Even allowing for the weird randomness that more than twelve million of them would demonstrate if she ever got that far, that was still a lot of recipes, too many recipes, so she narrowed it down to the best chicken marsala recipes and still got three million matches. Once she narrowed them down to five-star recipes that actually looked like Rory's dish, she was left with 8,000 recipes. There was one with artichokes, that was insane. One had lemon juice, which couldn't be right, another pepper, another onion. It was amazing how many ways people had found to mess up a plain recipe. She finally narrowed it down to what all the recipes had in common. She printed off two that met these requirements and went to log off the net, but instead, on a random impulse, Googled for "dyslexia" instead. An hour later, she logged off with a new respect for what Samuel Evans had accomplished.

When she got off work, she stopped by the grocery. There was something about having a plan for dinner, a recipe in hand, that made her feel much less hostile about food. Of course, she was going to have to adapt the recipe. It called for the chicken to be breaded in flour, which was just extra calories, and carb calories no less. Skip the breading. Salt and pepper she already had, and parsley had no calories, so she picked up a jar of that. Skinless, boneless chicken breasts she was familiar with, no problem there, but butter and olive oil? "No can do," she said and got spray olive oil in a can. Mushrooms were mostly water, so she could have those, and then there was the marsala. She found it in the cooking wine section. Resolutely passing by the bread section, she checked out feeling triumphant, went home and changed into her sweats, cranked up the iPod, and rapped her head off to her Tupac's _All Eyez on Me_ album as she cooked.

An hour later, Tupac was starting all over again and she was staring at the mess in her only frying pan trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She'd browned the chicken in the non-stick skillet and then followed all the other directions but it looked funny and tasted like hell. She tapped her spatula on the edge of the stove for a few moments and thought, Okay, I'm not a cook. I still deserve great food and dropped the spatula to pick up the phone.

"Rory?" she said when he answered. "Do you deliver?"

* * *

The Parker seminar was turning into the worst mess Evans, Clarington, Lynn had ever seen, mostly because the idiot who was in charge of training kept changing the seminar information. "I'm faxing some information over," she'd say when she called. "Just slot it in somewhere."

"That woman must die," Hunter said when she called at ten till five on Tuesday. "I've got a date with Holly tonight."

"I'll stay for the fax," Ryder said. "Marley will understand."

"You go, I'll stay," Sam said. "I'm dateless and too tired to move anyway." Hunter and Ryder left, both heading for warm women, and Sam read the fax and tightened the seminar packet one more time, trying to feel grateful that there wasn't any place he had to be, no woman demanding his time and attention. At seven, he turned off the computer with relief and realized he was starving.

Rory's seemed like an excellent idea.

"Don't tell me," Rory said when Sam came through the swinging doors into the kitchen. "Chicken Marsala."

"I've had enough chicken marsala for a while," Sam said as the phone rang. Rory turned to get it and Sam added, "Something simple. Tomato and basil on spaghetti—" No. Forty percent of all pasta sold was spaghetti. No imagination. "Make that fettuccine—"

He stopped when Rory held up his hand and said, "Rory's," into the phone. Rory listened and then looked back over his shoulder at Sam and said, "We usually don't, but for such a special customer, we'll make an exception. Chicken Marsala, right? No, no, no trouble at all. You can overtip the delivery boy." He hung up and smiled at Sam. "That was Cedes. She wants chicken marsala. You can deliver it to her."

"What?" Sam said, dumbfounded.

"You know the way. It's probably on your way home."

"It's not on my way home, it's not on anybody's way home except God's, the damn place is vertical. What gave you the idea I'd do this?"

Rory shrugged. "I don't know. She called, you were here, you two are great together, it seemed like a good idea. Did you have a fight?"

"No, we didn't have a fight," Sam said. "We're not seeing each other because I'm all wrong for her and she's waiting for the reincarnation of Tupac. Call her back and tell her your delivery boy died."

"Then she won't have anything for dinner," Rory said. "And you know Cedes. She's one of those women who actually eat."

Sam thought about the look on Cedes' face when she ate chicken marsala. It was almost as good as the look on her face when she ate doughnuts. Which wasn't anywhere near as good as the look on her face when he'd kissed her, that had been—

Rory shrugged. "Fine. Myron can take it to her."

"No," Sam said. "I'll take it to her. Hurry up, will you? I'm hungry."

**A/N: This is the last two-part chapter update yay no more having to redo, revise, and reread 10,000 words chapters. I did delete a lot from the original work. Sorry if some of my deletions make the story confusing at times, I will try to clarify the confusion at some point. **


	8. Chapter 6

**A/N: Self-disparaging comments, Lucy Q and Anthony are back, and unfortunately for those two and Holly, Santana is playing cupid along with Rory and Hunter AKA Bullethead. Thanks for all my original supporters of the story you bring me life when I don't want to finish this and even post some other never going to be finished crazy mess after this hot mess. So, I just want to say thank you. Thanks for all the new followers and favorites. The notifications in my email also give me the urge to stop listening to a good audiobook and actually read and work on this and add a new word to my vocabulary, I had to look up dormers. I own nothing but mistakes.**

**Chapter Six**

Forty-five minutes later, Sam was climbing the steps to Cedes' place when something small and orange streaked past him and almost knocked him down the hill. He finished the climb cautiously, but when he looked around at the top, nothing was there. He rang the doorbell, and Marley came to let him in.

"Hi," he said. "Cedes ordered takeout." He held up the bag, feeling stupid, his least favorite feeling in the world.

"And you're delivering?" Marley said as she stepped back.

"Well, you can never have enough extra cash," Sam said and hit the stairs, knowing she was watching him. When he got to the top, he heard Tupac rapping "I Ain't Mad At Cha" through Cedes' door and sighed.

Cedes looked surprised when she opened the door at his knock, and he felt pretty stunned himself: as far as he could see, all she was wearing was a very long, very old blue sweatshirt and lumpy socks. Her hair was down in frizzy tight curls, and she was wearing no makeup, so the only color on her face was the fading black bruise from where he'd accidentally clocked her.

"What the hell?" she said. "How did you get in the front door?"

"This is how you open the door to delivery guys'" Sam said, staring at the good strong legs he'd scoped out in the bar on Friday.

"No, this is how I open the door to Marley," Cedes said. "Stop ogling. I have shorts on under this." She pulled up the edge of her shirt and he saw baggy plaid boxers that were only marginally less ugly than her shirt and socks. "How did you get in the front door?"

"Marley let me in of course." Sam put Rory's bag down on an old cast iron sewing machine table beside a couch that looked like an aged, overstuffed pumpkin. Sam looked around the rest of her apartment. It appeared to be the entire attic, its crazy angles punctuated by dormers-roofed structures, containing windows, that project vertically beyond the plane of a pitched roof giving an increase of the usable space in the attic, and it was furnished in ancient pieces, some of them non-tasteful and nonvaluable antiques. He frowned and thought, This doesn't look like her.

Cedes fishing in her purse asked, "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing." There were snow globes on the mantel, lined up on both sides of a kitschy old clock made from fake books, and he went over beside her to look at them, saying, "You didn't pick out this furniture."

"It was my grandmother's," Cedes said. "Look, you're not going to pay for my dinner. You did me a favor by bringing it, so—"

"You collect these?" Sam said, picking up Rocky and Bullwinkle.

"Sam," Cedes said.

"There's enough food there for an army," he said. "If you want company, I'm staying and eating half of it. If you don't, I'll take half with me, although I am reluctant to leave you alone with these for companions." Sam put Rocky down and looked at the next one. Chip and Dale. "Where did you get these?"

"Friends," Cedes said. "Family. Flea markets." She paused. "You can stay."

"You know, this furniture is not you, that clock is not you, and you don't seem like the snow globe type."

"I know it's not me," Cedes said, looking around at it. "But it's good furniture, so it doesn't make sense to buy new. Besides, it reminds me of my grandmother. She loved me unconditionally. And I feel loved surrounded by her things and memories of my childhood spent with her. And the snow globe thing started by accident." She turned back to him. "At least let me pay for half of dinner."

"No." Sam picked up a massive piece that had a globe with Lady and the Tramp sitting on top of a detailed Italian restaurant. "What kind of accident?"

"My Grandma Mercy had a Mickey and Minnie Mouse snow globe. They were dancing and Minnie was wearing a long pink dress and Mickey was dipping her." Cedes' voice softened as she spoke. "My grandpa who was nicknamed Mickey called her his Minnie and gave the snow globe to her for a wedding anniversary, but I loved it so much that she gave it to me when I was twelve and going through my Disney phase."

Sam scanned the mantel. Christine and the Phantom, Jessica and Ryder Rabbit, Blondie and Dagwood Sleeping Beauty and the Prince, Cinderella and her Prince in front of a castle with white doves suspended in air, even Donald and Daisy were there, but no Mickey and Minnie. "Where is it?"

"I lost it," Cedes said. "In one of the moves when I was in college. You know how it is, you move every year and stuff disappears. I was upset about it so people started giving me other ones on my birthday and for Christmas to make up for it. I tried to tell them I didn't want any more, you know, 'Thank you, it's lovely, but you shouldn't have,' but by then it had taken on a life of its own." She looked at the mantel and sighed. "I have boxes of them in the basement. These are just my favorites. Never collect anything. People never let you quit."

Sam looked over the assortment again. There was one big, dark one at the end of the mantel that looked like monsters. "What's this?" he said, picking it up.

"Disney villains," Cedes said. "Holly and Marley each got me one for Christmas two years ago."

"Holly got you that one," Sam said, putting it back.

"How do you know it wasn't Marley?" Cedes asked.

"Because that's not Marley." He pointed to the Cinderella globe with the doves. "She got you that one."

"Yes," Cedes said. "I still don't see—"

"Marley wants the fairy tale," Sam said. "Holly's a realist, she sees the bad guys. Also, Marley wouldn't have missed the important part. She got you a couple."

"A couple of what?" Cedes said.

"A couple," Sam said. "Twosome. These are all couples. Look. Lady and the Tramp, Christine and the Phantom, Jessica Rabbit and Ryder... except for Holly's, they're all couples."

"I wouldn't call Rocky and Bullwinkle a couple exactly," Cedes said, looking at them doubtfully. "And Chip and Dale. I mean, I know there have been rumors, but—"

"Come on, Mercy," Sam said. "You started with a couple."

"Don't call me Mercy," Cedes said, her eyes flashing at him.

"You can call me whatever you want," Sam said, grinning at her, wanting that flash again.

"I'm going to call you a cab if you don't stop annoying me," Cedes said. "Can we just eat?" Sam gave up and went back to the table to unpack Rory's bag. "That guy really did a number on you."

"What guy?"

"The one who dumped you the night I picked you up. You must have loved him a lot."

"Oh." Cedes blinked. "Him? No. Not at all."

_Good_, Sam thought, even though it didn't make any difference. "Do you have plates?" She went around the table and into an alcove that anybody else would call a closet, but that her landlord evidently thought was a kitchen.

"Get wineglasses, too," Sam said as he opened the box with the bread in it.

"What?" Cedes said, leaning out of the alcove.

"Glasses," Sam said. "For the wine."

Cedes came out of the alcove with two wine glasses and set the table while he pulled the cork from the wine and poured, trying not to look at her sweats. It was nice of her to dress so badly. If she'd been wearing that red sweater again, he might have had a problem. Then she opened the carton with the salad in it and tried to plate it using a tablespoon. "Damn," she said, as the dressing spilled onto the table.

"You don't cook, do you, Mercedes?" Sam said.

"Oh, and you do?" Cedes said.

"Sure." He took the spoon from her. "I worked in a restaurant while I was in college. You need a big spoon, Mercy. This one is for eating."

"Or I could just jab you with it," Cedes said.

He shook his head and went around her into the kitchenette to look for a larger spoon and instead found a frying pan with something horrible in it.

"What is this?" he said when she came in for a paper towel.

"None of your business," Cedes said. He raised his eyebrows at her and she said, "I thought I could make it on my own. I got the recipe. But it didn't—"

Light dawned. "This is chicken marsala?"

"No," Cedes said. "That is a mess, which is why I called Rory's."

"What did you do?" Sam said.

"Why?" Cedes said. "So you can make snarky comments?"

"Do you want to know how to make chicken marsala or not?" Sam said, exasperated. She was such a pain in the ass.

She scowled up at him. "Yes."

"What's the first thing you did?" Sam said.

"Sprayed the pan with olive oil," Cedes said.

"Sprayed?" Sam said. "No. Pour. A couple of tablespoons."

"Too much fat," Cedes said.

"It's good fat," Sam said. "Olive oil is good for you."

"Not for my waistline," Cedes said.

"You're going to have to pour, Mercy," Sam said. "It's part of the flavor."

"Okay," Cedes said, but she looked mutinous. "Then I browned the chicken."

"Too fast," Sam said. "Pound the chicken breasts first. Use a can if you don't have a mallet, put them in a plastic bag, and pound them thin. Then dredge them in flour mixed with ground black pepper and kosher salt."

"You're kidding," Cedes said. "Flour just adds calories."

"And seals the chicken," Sam said. "So it doesn't get..." He picked up a fork, jabbed one of the petrified slabs in the pan, and held it up. "... dry. Then what did you do?" Cedes folded her arms. "When they were browned, I put the mushrooms in and poured the wine over and let it reduce."

"No butter?"

"No butter," Cedes said. "Are you insane?"

"No," Sam said, dropping the chicken back in the pan. "But anybody who makes chicken marsala without olive oil, butter, or flour may be. If you wanted broiled chicken, you should have made broiled chicken." He dipped his finger in the sauce and tasted it. It was so vile he lost his breath, and Cedes ran him a glass of water and handed it to him.

"I don't know why that part didn't work," she said.

"What Marsala did you use?" Sam said when he'd gotten the taste out of his mouth, and she handed him a bottle of cooking wine. "No, no, no," he said and then relented when she winced. "Look, honey, when you make wine sauce, you're cooking the wine down, concentrating it. You have to use good wine or it'll taste like . . . He looked down at the pan. "... this. "

"Ouch," Cedes said. "Could you write that down for me?"

"No," Sam said, and then they heard a crash from another room. He looked around.

"I have one of those cheapo window screens that keep coming in and out in my bedroom," Cedes said and went through a doorway beside the mantel to look. "Oh, this is not good," she said when she was inside, and Sam followed her in.

Most of her bedroom was filled with the most elaborate brass bed he'd ever seen, a huge thing covered with a watery lavender-blue satin comforter and lavender satin pillows that were piled against a headboard that curved and twined, erupting in brass rosettes and finials, until he grew dizzy just looking at it. "How do you keep from falling out of bed?"

"I just hold on and try not to look at the headboard," Cedes said. "I love it. I bought it last month even though it was completely impractical., . ."

She went on, but Sam had stopped listening when she said, "I just hold on," imagining her lying back on the soft blue satin comforter, her soft curls spread out on the pillows, her soft lips open as she smiled at him, her soft hands gripping the headboard, her soft body—

"Sam?" Cedes said.

"It smells good in here," Sam said, trying to find a thought that didn't have _soft_ in it. Or _hard_, for that matter.

"Lavender pillows," Cedes said. "My grandmother always put lavender in her pillowcases. Or maybe it's the cinnamon candles."

Sam cleared his throat. "Well, it's . . . nice. It's the first thing I've seen in this apartment that looks like you." The thought of tipping her onto that blue comforter was entirely too plausible, so he said, "We should go eat. Now."

"Okay," Cedes said and started for the door.

"You want the window closed?" Sam said.

"Yes, can you do that for me?" Cedes asked.

"No problem," Sam said and let her glass window down before leaving the room.

When they were eating Rory's salad, Cedes said, "So chicken marsala is not heart-smart or weight friendly."

"Heart-smart?" Sam said, picking up his tumbler of wine. "Does that mean good for your heart? Because it is. I told you, olive oil is good for you. And a little bit of flour and butter won't kill you."

"Tell that to my mother." Cedes tasted her salad again. "This is so good. You know, the lesson here is, I shouldn't be cooking."

"Why?" Sam said. "It was the first time you tried. Everybody makes mistakes." He picked up the chicken carton and filled the two plates, managing it so that nothing spilled.

"Except you," Cedes said, watching him. "You do everything well."

"Okay," Sam said, putting the carton down. "You just got dumped, I get that, but you didn't care about the guy, so why are you still so mad and taking it out on me?"

Cedes cut into her chicken. "He was sort of the last straw." She put the chicken in her mouth and chewed, and got the same blissful look she always got when eating good food.

"You should never diet." Sam picked up his fork and began to eat. "So what did he do that you can't get over?"

"Well." Cedes stabbed a mushroom with more antagonism than it deserved. "It was mostly my weight."

"He criticized your weight?" Sam shook his head. "This guy has the brains of a brick."

"He didn't criticize, exactly," Cedes said. "He just suggested that I should go on a diet. And then he left because I wouldn't sleep with him."

"He told you to go on a diet and then asked you to bed?" Sam said. "I take it back. Bricks are smarter than this dipwad."

"Yes, but he has a point," Cedes said. "I mean, about my weight." She looked at him, defiant. "Right?"

"There is no way I can answer that without getting all that rage put back on me," Sam said. "Keep it on the loser who dumped you. I'm the good guy."

Cedes stabbed another mushroom, and then put the fork down. "Okay, I'll give you a free pass on this one. No matter what you say, I won't get mad."

Sam looked at her stormy face and laughed. "How are you going to work that?"

Cedes nodded. "Okay, I'll get mad, but I'll play fair. The thing is, you're the only man I trust enough to tell me the truth."

"You trust me?" Sam said, surprised and flattered. "I thought I was a beast."

"You are," Cedes said. "But you do tend to tell me the truth. On most things, not all things."

Sam stopped eating. "On all things. I've never lied to you."

"Yeah," Cedes said dismissively. "So what am I supposed to do about my weight?"

Sam put his fork down. "All right. Here's the truth. You're never going to be thin. You're a thick woman. You have wide hips, an ample ass, a round stomach, and full breasts. You're ..."

"Healthy," Cedes said bitterly.

"Lush," Sam said, watching the gentle rise and fall of her breasts under her sweatshirt.

"Generous," Cedes snarled.

"Opulent," Sam said, remembering the soft curve of her under his hand.

"Big-boned," Cedes said.

"Soft and round and hot, and I'm turning myself on," Sam said, starting to feel dizzy. "Do you have anything on under that sweatshirt?"

"Of course," Cedes said, taken aback.

"Oh," Sam said, ditching that fantasy. "Good. We should be eating. What were we talking about?"

"My weight?" Cedes said.

"Right," Sam said, picking up his fork again. "The reason you can't lose weight is that you're not supposed to lose weight, you're not built that way, and if you did manage through some stupid diet to take the weight off, you'd be like that chicken mess you just made. Some things are supposed to be made with butter. You're one of them."

"So I'm doomed," Cedes said.

"Another problem is that you don't listen. You want to be sexy, be sexy. You have assets that skinny women without plastic surgery will never have, and you should be enjoying them and dressing like you enjoy them. Or at least dressing so that others can enjoy them. That suit you were wearing the night I picked you up made you look like a prison warden." He remembered looking down the front of her red sweater and added, "Your underwear's good, though."

"There are no clothes that look good on me," Cedes said.

"Of course there are," Sam said, still making his way through dinner. "Although you're the kind of woman who looks better naked than dressed." His treacherous mind tried to imagine that and he blocked it. "I'm assuming. Eat, please. Hunger makes you cranky."

"I look better naked?" Cedes said, picking up her fork again. "No. Listen—"

"You asked, I told you," Sam said. "You just don't want to hear it. The truth is, most guys would rather go to bed with you than with a clothes hanger, you're a lot more fun to touch, but most women don't believe that. You keep trying to lose weight for each other."

Cedes rolled her eyes. "So I've been sexy all these years? Why hasn't anybody noticed?"

"Because you dress like you hate your body," Sam said. "Sexy is in your head. It's about having confidence, and you don't feel sexy so you don't look it."

"Then how do you know I am?" Cedes said, exasperated.

"Because I've looked down your sweater," Sam said, flashing back to that. "And I've kissed you, and I have to tell you, your mouth is a miracle. Now eat something."

Cedes looked at her plate for a moment and then dug in. "God, this is good," she said a few minutes later.

"Nothing better than good food," Sam said. "Well, except for—"

"There's got to be a way to make this heart-smart," Cedes said.

Sam shook his head. "Good to know I've been talking to myself here. Did you hear anything I said?"'

"Yes," Cedes said. "So I looked like a prison warden when you picked me up, huh?"

"No," Sam said. "You had great shoes on. You do let yourself go on shoes." _Nice toes, too_.

"So the reason you crossed the bar to pick me up even though I looked like a prison warden was because of my shoes?"

The question sounded pointed, so he tried to remember why he had picked her up. The dinner bet. He winced. That stupid dinner bet with Anthony. "Oh, hell."

"There was a bet, wasn't there?" Cedes said, sounding disgusted.

Sam took out his wallet and put a ten on the table. "There you go, it's all yours. Can I finish dinner before you throw me out?"

"Sure," Cedes said. "You know, you're taking losing that bet pretty well."

"I didn't lose," Sam said, stabbing another mushroom. "I don't lose."

"You collected on that bet?" Cedes said, sounding outraged.

Sam frowned at her. "You walked out the door with me. I won."

"And everybody just assumes . . ."

"Assumes what?" Sam said, exasperated. "Somebody bet me ten bucks I could get you to leave with me. You left with me. I got the ten bucks. Now you've got the ten bucks. Can we move on?"

"So the bet's over," Cedes said, disbelief palpable in her voice.

"Yes," Sam said, moving beyond exasperation. "Okay, it wasn't the best start to a relationship, but we don't have a relationship, what with you waiting for Tupac and both of us with our non-dating plans. Plus I'm feeding you. Again. Why are you mad?"

"No reason at all," Cedes said, flatly, and went back to her chicken.

"I'm missing something big here, aren't I?" Sam said.

"Yep," Cedes said. "Keep eating."

Sam offered to help with the dishes, but Cedes shoved him out the door, fed up with him because of the bet and with herself for caring. She put the leftovers from Rory in the fridge and dumped the mess she'd made into the trash, and then she went into her bedroom and crawled under the satin comforter. Sam had said the bed was the only thing that looked like her. In an apartment full of plain lumpy furniture, he'd picked out the one beautiful, rich, sexy thing and said, "That's you." The bastard.

* * *

"There's a real babe waiting in your office," Anthony's assistant said when Anthony came in on Wednesday."Very nice."

_Cedes_, Anthony thought and then realized with disappointment that it couldn't be. Nobody described Cedes as a babe.

When he opened the door, Lucy Quinn was sitting across from his desk, looking phenomenal in a red suit.

"There you are," she said, standing up.

"That's a great suit," he said, closing the door behind him. He walked around her, impressed by the way the skirt curved under her tight little butt without hugging it.

"Anthony," Lucy Quinn said. "Forget the suit. Why is Sam still dating the woman you love?"

"Dating?" Anthony lost interest in Lucy Quinn's suit and sat down behind his desk.

"He took her to lunch on Monday which meant he couldn't go with me. He took her dinner last night at her place." Lucy Quinn leaned closer, her lovely little face tense. "I thought you were going to call Jake. Why is he still with her?"

"I did call Jake." Anthony moved some papers around while he thought fast. "I don't know why it didn't work. Maybe Sam had a good time when he was with her." _Maybe he wants to win ten thousand dollars_.

"But no sex," Lucy Quinn said.

"No," Anthony said, praying Cedes was still frigid. "They will not be having sex."

"I think you're right." Lucy Quinn began to pace. "She doesn't sound like a woman who would do it that fast, and he wouldn't push it. He has great instincts."

"Well, hooray for him," Anthony said. "Is there anything else you wanted?"

Lucy Quinn leaned over the desk. "I want you to call Cedes. Ask her to lunch, ask her to dinner, pay for it, and get her back."

Anthony looked down the neckline of her suit and revisited her cleavage. "You do this on purpose, don't you?"

Lucy Quinn took a deep breath, her jaw rigid. "Anthony, I am a dating expert who is losing the man she loves. This isn't just about my private life, this is about my public life, it's about my whole life. I have a potential bestseller on my hands, my editor wants to put our wedding picture on the back cover, everything is riding on this, and I am not going to see it go down the drain because you're too spineless to get your girlfriend back." She leaned closer. "I'll go away when you promise me you'll call her for lunch, and you tell me who her best friends are. I saw two with her at the bar on Friday. A blonde and a redhead. Are they close to her?"

Her perfume wafted toward him, very faint, a whisper of a scent that made him dizzy. "What perfume are you wearing?" he said, trying to ignore the "spineless" crack and the fact that she was a psycho stalker to know Sam and Cedes' movements and friends like she did.

"It's a special blend made just for me," Lucy Quinn said, her voice lower now. "It's made of the scents that most strongly activate a man's libido. I put it on for you, Anthony. Who's her best friend?" Anthony shook his head to clear it and slid his chair back, away from her. "What's in that stuff?"

"Lavender and pumpkin pie." Lucy Quinn straightened. "I need to know her best friend. I'm helping you, Anthony. You want the actuary back, right?"

She stood in front of him, lithe and lean in red, smelling like lavender and cinnamon, and it took him a minute to remember who the actuary was.

"I don't even like you," he told her. "Why am I so turned on?"

She rolled her eyes. "Because you're male. Who's her friend?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lucy Quinn exhaled through her teeth. "I told you this. Attraction. If I can tell her best friend about Sam's pathology with women, I can ensure that the friend finds out enough to worry, and then she will tell Cedes she dislikes him. And that will help to ward off the infatuation stage. It's all science, Anthony. Nobody is going to get mugged in an alley."

"Okay," Anthony said, still fixated on her breasts. "Are you wearing anything under that jacket?"

"If I show you, will you give me a name?" Lucy Quinn said.

"Yes," Anthony said, knowing he was low and weak and not caring.

Lucy Quinn popped the two buttons on her jacket and opened it. Her red silk bra matched the lining of the suit, and her breasts were perfect B cups, high and taut and, from where he sat, real.

"Oh, God," Anthony said, freezing in his seat.

"Damn right," Lucy Quinn said, buttoning back up again. "Now give me the name."

"The redhead," Anthony said. "Holly Holliday. She thinks all men are bastards anyway."

"She's right," Lucy Quinn said. "Call Cedes for lunch."

Then she left and Anthony watched her go, the afterimage of her perfect breasts imprinted on his retinas, trying to tell himself that he'd done the right thing because somebody had to stop Sam Evans. And save Cedes, that was important, too.

"Very hot," his assistant said from the doorway. He sniffed the air. "Wow. Is that her perfume?"

"Yes," Anthony said, picking up his phone. "It's called brimstone. Don't let her in here again."

* * *

At eight that night, Holly was sitting with Hunter and Ryder in The Long Shot waiting for Marley and Cedes to come back from the bathroom when Hunter said, "Uh oh," and turned away from the bar.

"What?" Ryder followed his gaze. "Oh." He shrugged. "She's clear across the room."

"She who?" Holly squinted through the dim light. A blonde lounged at the bar, looking expensive, lean, and bored while the guy next to her made his pitch. "Old girlfriend?"

"Nope," Hunter said as Marley came back from the bathroom. "I don't date the insane. Well, not until you."

"Do you date the insane?" Marley said to Ryder with interest as she sat down.

"No, no, Sam, not me," Ryder said, almost falling off his chair. "I hardly ever date."

"It's all right, baby." Marley patted his knee. "You're allowed to date."

"I don't want to date," Ryder said and Hunter rolled his eyes.

"So that's Sam's old girlfriend." Holly stood. "I'll be right back."

"Wait a minute," Hunter said and caught her arm. "Why do you care about Sam's love life?"

"He's dating my best friend," Holly said, trying to sound innocent. "I'm curious."

"What I meant by the not-dating thing," Ryder said to Marley, "was not dating anybody but you."

"I really don't expect monogamy on the third date," Marley said.

"Okay," Ryder said. "But it's here anyway."

"Am I going to have to put a chain on you?" Hunter said to Holly. He stopped to contemplate that for a moment and then shook his head. "Forget the chains. Stay away from Lucy Quinn. She has psychology on the brain. Probably because she's a psychologist, but still, she comes up with some very whacko stuff."

"Analyzed you, did she?" Holly said, looking back across the bar.

"The not-dating-other-people is just for me, of course," Ryder said to Marley. "You don't have to just date me. Unless you want to."

Hunter shook his head. "She has this insane four-steps-to-love theory that she thinks explains all relationships."

"Oh," Holly said, taken aback.

"Which is dumb because chaos theory explains relationships," Hunter said, tugging her back into her seat.

"What?" Holly said, trying to pull her arm away.

"Human relationships, like the weather, cannot be predicted," Hunter said, holding on, and Holly sat down again to relieve the pressure on her arm. "Take, for example, Cedes and Sam. Sam's a complex dynamical system who's trying to maintain stability by not dating."

"He's not dating?" Holly said.

"No," Hunter said. "Can you believe it? That alone is making him unstable. The man is not good at celibacy. Then he meets Cedes, a disturbance in his environment. He begins to move at random because of the disturbance, trying to find stability, but he's caught in the field of her attraction and starts bouncing off the sides of that field at random, never repeating himself but still caught in her pattern. She's the strange attractor."

"Uh huh," Holly said. "And what good is all of this?"

Hunter leaned closer. "Lucy Quinn thinks relationships follow a pattern and that you can predict them. But how can you? People are complex, the disturbances in their lives are complex, and the attractors in their lives are complex. People in love are pure chaos theory."

"Okay," Holly said, still confused.

"That's why Lucy Quinn is crazy," Hunter said, letting go of her. "She thinks love can be analyzed and explained. It can't be."

Holly sat back and considered Hunter for the first time. Somehow he didn't look dumb anymore, and it wasn't because of whatever the hell chaos theory was. It was because he was interested in what he was saying. When he cared, he was smart.

"What?" Hunter said.

"Have you ever been in love?" Holly said.

"No," Hunter said. "I don't think it's going to happen." He grinned at her. "It would cause too much disturbance in my environment."

Holly frowned. "So why don't you like Lucy Quinn?"

"She tried to pin Sam down. She analyzed him and thought she knew him. He deserves better than that. He should be with somebody who's willing to face the chaos. No rules, no conditions, no theories, no safety nets. The way Marley is with Ryder."

Holly looked over at Marley, laughing with Ryder. "You're right. We all deserve that."

"Good," Hunter said. "Then you don't have to talk to Lucy Quinn."

Ryder said something, and Hunter turned away to answer him, and Holly got up and went to meet Lucy Quinn. When Holly slid into a seat and said, "Hi, I'm Holly," Lucy Quinn looked up and did a double take.

"Hi," she said, sounding surprised, almost as if she recognized her. "I'm Lucy Quinn. Do we know each other?"

"No," Holly said. "But your ex is dating a friend of mine. Tell me everything you know about Samuel Evans."

Fifteen minutes later, Holly sat back and thought, Chaos theory, my ass, Samuel Evans has a pattern. "I knew it," she said to Lucy Quinn. "I knew he was going to break her heart. How many times has he done this?"

Lucy Quinn shrugged. "I was at a party one night after we broke up, and I started talking to a woman who had dated him, too. Then somebody else drifted over. By the end of the night, there were four of us, all the same story. A couple of months, life is good, you think 'he's the one' and then he kisses you on the cheek, says 'Have a nice life,' and he's gone."

"You're kidding," Holly said. "And nobody's hunted him down with a tire iron?"

"You can't," Lucy Quinn said. "What are you going to say, 'You dated me for two months, how dare you leave me?' You'd sound demented." She sipped her drink. "And he doesn't do it on purpose," she added, for what must have been the thousandth time.

"You know, I don't care," Holly said. "I just don't want him hurting Cedes."

"Maybe they're not that serious," Lucy Quinn said. "Do they have anything in common?"

"Not that I can tell," Holly said.

"Are they relaxed together?"

"No," Holly said. "Mostly they fight."

"Do they have shared secrets? In-jokes?"

Holly shook her head. "They don't know each other that well."

Lucy Quinn drew her fingertip around her glass. "Do you like him? I mean, have you told Cedes you don't like him?"

"Hell, yes," Holly said. "Marley and I have both warned her."

"Hmmm." Lucy Quinn smiled at Holly. "Does he have a nickname for her yet?"

"A nickname?" Holly tried to remember. "He calls her by her last name sometimes. Never anything like 'Pookie' or 'baby doll.'"

"How about her?" Lucy Quinn said. "Does she have a nickname for him?"

"The beast," Holly said. "I don't think it's affectionate."

Lucy Quinn laughed. "Then why is she dating him?"

"I'm not sure she is," Holly said. "But I think she's going to. I think she's falling for him even though she doesn't want to."

Lucy Quinn stopped laughing.

"And that worries me," Holly said. "She's a terrific person, she doesn't deserve to be dallied with. Can you give me some pointers on how he works?"

Lucy Quinn straightened and nodded. "Sure. Has he given her anything yet?"

"He's only known her a week," Holly said. "I don't. . ." She stopped when Lucy Quinn shook her head.

"If he's serious at all about her, he'll give her something. He'll find out what she wants most, and he'll make sure she gets it. He has to, it's this pattern he's fallen into because of his mother."

"His mother?" Holly said.

"She's withholding," Lucy Quinn said. "He only knows conditional love. So he acts out the same pattern with every woman he meets, trying to win her love. And then when he gets it, the pattern breaks because if she loves him, she's not a stand-in for his mother, and he moves on, to make somebody else love him."

"He's got an Oedipus complex?" Holly said, appalled.

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "She just set up the pattern. He's not in love with her."

"So that means the more Cedes rejects him ..." Holly said.

"The more he'll chase her," Lucy Quinn said, all traces of amusement gone. "He can't help it. He doesn't even know he does it. Does she collect anything?"

"Snow globes," Holly said, and then when Lucy Quinn tried to hide her contempt, added, "It's not her fault. It was a family thing that got out of hand."

"He'll buy her a snow globe," Lucy Quinn said. "And it'll be the perfect one, the one she's been missing or always wanted or maybe didn't even know she wanted until he gives it to her. And when he does, you get her out fast, or it'll be all over but the weeping."

"Snow globe," Holly said, looking back at the table where Sam had joined the group after working late.

"He's not a bad person," Lucy Quinn said again. "He'd never hurt anyone on purpose. He's just got this ..."

"Pathology where he mutilates women because of his mother," Holly said. "I think that was Norman Bates' story, too."

"He'd never hurt her physically," Lucy Quinn said, shocked.

"Well, he's not going to hurt her emotionally either," Holly said. "Thank you very much, I appreciate this."

"My pleasure," Lucy Quinn said. Holly thought, Your pleasure?, and she must have looked at her oddly, because Lucy Quinn added, "To help. Out. Your friend." She looked down at her drink. "I don't want her to get hurt."

"Me, either," Holly said and headed back to the others.

* * *

When she got back to the table, Hunter was saying to Cedes, "I don't believe it."

"Believe it," Cedes said. "There are ways you can tell."

"Tell what?" Holly said, sitting down beside Hunter but keeping an eye on Sam who had just arrived and was sitting next to Cedes.

"If a guy is worth dating early in the game," Cedes said. "We were talking about the old dating tests we used in college."

"Tests," Sam said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. "I hate tests."

"Like what?" Hunter asked Holly.

Holly shrugged. "Like you ask him over to watch a movie."

"This is good," Hunter said. "Movies are good."

"And you show him _Say Anything_," Marley said.

"Chick flick," Hunter said.

"You flunked this test before it started," Holly said.

Marley went on. "And then you wait until he's watching the scene where John Cusack brushes the broken glass out of lone Skye's path."

Holly watched Sam grin at Cedes, and Cedes shake her head at Sam. _Secrets_, she thought and straightened a little in her chair.

"And then what?" Hunter said.

"And if you say. . ." Marley deepened her voice. "'What the hell? She's wearing shoes, ain't she?' you're gone."

"Well, she was," Hunter said, exasperated.

"But they were open-toed," Ryder said.

"You get extra points for noticing they were open-toed," Marley told him.

"Great," Hunter said. "The guy with the foot fetish gets extra points."

"Okay, Mercy," Sam said to Cedes, "the guy says that and then what happens?"

_Mercy_? Holly thought and waited for Cedes to savage him.

"I become ill with something communicable," Cedes said, trying not to smile.

"How ill?" Sam said, grinning at her.

_Damn it_, Holly thought.

"There will be retching," Cedes said and grinned back.

"And in your case, I will throw up on your shoes," Holly said to Hunter, needing to vent at somebody.

"What happens to me?" Ryder asked Marley.

"Wonderful things," Marley said, slipping her arm into his.

"I hate you," Hunter said to Ryder. "You keep fucking up the curve."

Cedes laughed, and Sam watched her laugh, and Holly thought, _Oh, no. He looked like a man with a goal,_ and she knew what it was. _I catch you with a snow globe, buddy,_ she thought, _and you are dead meat_.

Sam glanced over at her and froze. "What?" he said.

"Nothing," Holly said and smiled at him with intent. "Nothing at all."

* * *

"Who's the lucky woman tonight?" Santana said when Sam went to the bar for refills.

"No woman," Sam said. "I'm resting. How's Elvis? Still singing "She" on permanent rotation?"

"Don't knock Elvis. If he was a girl, I'd marry him." She craned her head to look around Sam. "I see the Goon Brothers and two women. Let me guess. The tall skinny redhead is yours."

"No," Sam said. "Refills all around for them, Scotch for me." Santana looked past him again. "You're with the blonde in the blue? She looks vacant to me."

"Misleading," Sam said. "But no, not her, either. She's Ryder's."

"Then where—" Santana began.

"Hi," Cedes said from behind him, and he turned, smiling automatically. "I completely understand your need to flirt with the bartender, but Hunter sent me to remind you to hurry."

Santana leaned over the bar and stuck her hand out to Cedes. "Hi, I'm Santana, Sam's next-door neighbor."

Cedes looked surprised but took it. "I'm Cedes." She hesitated, and then she leaned over the bar. "Can I ask you something personal?"

"Oh, please do," Santana said, looking deep into her eyes.

"Excuse me?" Sam said, not sure whether he was annoyed or turned on that Santana was hitting on Cedes in front of him.

"You have the most beautiful hair," Cedes said, ignoring him. "How do you keep it from frizzing?"

"I don't wash it a lot," Santana said. "Just rinse and deep condition it with Shea Butter and Pure Coconut Oil Moisturizing Curl Conditioner. It'll never frizz on you again."

"You're kidding," Cedes said. "I'm going to try that. I'm so sick of pinning my hair up that I'll try anything."

"Well, come back in when you let it down," Santana said. "I want to see it." _Me, too_, Sam thought.

"I will do that," Cedes said. "Thank you." She turned back to Sam. "Do you need help carrying the drinks?"

"Yes," Sam said before Santana could say "No" and hand him a tray.

"I'll be right back then," Cedes said, and went over to the jukebox. Sam leaned on the bar as he watched her cross the room. "Get those drinks, babe."

"Tell me she's bi," Santana said, watching Cedes, too. "The things she could do with that mouth ..."

"The things I could do with that mouth," Sam said. _The things I have already done with that mouth._ He felt a little dizzy again. Well, it was warm in the bar.

"I'll get those drinks," Santana said and left while Sam watched Cedes flip cards on the jukebox. He focused on the gorgeous curve of her neck as she read the song titles. She looked juicy, biteable there, and that set off a whole new train of thought that he told himself was all right as long as he didn't do anything about it. When Santana came back with six glasses and mugs on a tray, she said, "So how long have you been seeing her?"

"I met her a week ago, but we're not—"

"Early yet." Santana nodded. "She's got another month, probably two before you wander off. Tell her nice things about me so I can lay a foundation."

"For what?" Sam said.

"She's going to need comforting when you tell her to have a nice life. I will be that comfort. Are you sleeping with her yet?"

"I'm not even dating her," Sam said as Cedes fed some coins into the jukebox and punched in some numbers. "Give me my Scotch. I think we're going to be listening to Tupac and I will need it."

"Not dating her, huh? Good news for me." Santana slid his glass across to him.

Sam shook his head. "No. She does not play for your team. And you're still grief-stricken, remember?"

"I'm feeling much better," Santana said, as "California Love" boomed out of the jukebox. "How do you know she doesn't play for my team?"

"I kissed her. She plays for mine. Although not for me."

"Not for you, huh?" Santana took two fives from her pocket and slapped them on the bar. "I got ten bucks says you can't kiss her again right here."

"No kidding." Sam laughed at the thought of the damage Cedes would do to him if he tried. "Also no bet."

Santana tilted her head. "Okay. I got ten bucks says you can kiss her right here."

"I've explained this to you," Sam said. "You have to figure the odds and then take the side that's probable. You don't just flip a coin."

Santana tapped her finger on the two fives. "Ten says you can do it."

"What's with you?" Sam said. "When did you turn into somebody who likes to watch?"

"I'm just—" Santana began.

"Hey," Cedes said, from behind Sam, startling them both. "I thought you weren't going to bet on me anymore."

Sam looked down at her exasperated face. Her lush lower lip stuck out a little, not enough for a pout but enough to remind him of why he'd been staying away from her. "I never said that. Besides, what makes you think I'm—"

"You're both staring at me and there's money on the bar," Cedes said. "We've been here before." Her eyes were dark, crackling with heat now as she scowled at him, and he began to breathe a little faster, remembering.

"He didn't make the bet," Santana said. "I did. In fact, he—" Sam took a ten out of his pocket and slapped it on the bar over Santana's two fives.

"You're on," he said and leaned down to kiss Cedes.


	9. Chapter 7

**A/N: I really appreciate all of you so much. I own none of this but like a screenwriter who adapts a book for a movie, I have adapted this tale from**** J. Crusie for Samcedes. Just as a movie leaves out some of the contents of the book, I have left out some of the book's content as well. Please forgive all the mistakes and I have come up with nicknames for Lucy Q and Anthony, Creep and Creepier, Anthony is Creep and Lucy Q is Creepier.**

**Chapter Seven**

"Oh, yeah, he's innocent," Cedes said and then stopped as Sam leaned closer, giving her plenty of time to back away.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted, and she said, "Uh," and then he kissed her, gently, wanting to remember every second this time, the way she felt and tasted, soft and sweet, and he felt her suck in her breath, and then she kissed him back, giving him everything again, and the voice in his head said, **THIS ONE,** and he forgot his good intentions and cradled her face in his hand and lost himself in her. When he broke the kiss, her eyes were half-closed and her cheeks were flushed.

"Did you win?" she said, breathless, and he said, "Yes," and kissed her again, harder this time, feeling her hand clutch his shirt, and then something smacked him on the back of the head and knocked him into her, and she jerked away and said, "Ouch. Ouch."

"Damn it," he said, swinging around to face Holly. "Stop doing that."

"I will if you will," she said.

"No, really," Cedes said, sounding dazed. "It was okay. It was just another bet."

"Scum," Holly said.

"Look," Sam said, trying to catch his breath. "Cedes can take care of herself."

Holly stepped closer. "Yeah, tell me you know her. Tell me you care about her. Tell me you're going to love her until the end of time."

"What is it with you?" Sam said. "I kissed her. It happens."

Santana picked up the twenty bucks on the bar. "And I, for one, am very grateful you did. Thank you very much."

"I thought you won," Cedes said to Sam. Her eyes were hot, and she was breathing faster, too.

"I did," Sam said, falling back into her. "I just lost the bet."

"Come on, Stats," Holly said, pulling on her arm.

"Right," Cedes said, shaking her head a little as if to clear it. "Did anybody see that?"

"This is the second time you both have engaged in PDA. You think you know better by now. The entire bar was holding up numbers," Holly said. "It was like the Olympics."

"How'd we do?" Sam said, putting an edge on his voice as he cooled off.

"The Russian judge thought you needed work," Holly said. "There was booing."

"Well, the Russians are tough," Sam said. "Could you let go of her, please?"

"I don't think so," Holly said and tugged Cedes' arm again.

"I should go back," Cedes said to Sam. "You know. Because of the plan."

"What plan?" Sam said.

"Not dating. Taking a break. Remember? Both of us?"

"Right," Sam said, thinking,_ Why did I think that was a good idea_? "The plan. Waiting for Tupac. Great." He picked up his Scotch again. "Here's to the plan."

"Yeah, well, have a nice life." Cedes picked up the tray of drinks and followed Holly back to the table.

"So the tall redhead hates you," Santana said.

"Holly," Sam said. "I have never done a thing to that woman."

"I think it's what you want to do to her friend," Santana said. "Still, it does seem like an overreaction. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Like what?" Sam said. "I am innocent of this one." _No, I'm not._

"No, you're not," Santana said. "I saw that kiss. And you're right. She plays for your team."

"Not anymore," Sam said, feeling the back of his head. "We agreed on a plan. Not dating." He gestured with his glass. "I'm going to drink this and then go home for aspirin."

"That's not going to help," Santana said. "Try a cold shower, too."

"Good to see you've got your sense of humor back," Sam said, and went home to find some peace and painkillers.

* * *

That week, Cedes began screening her calls to dodge Anthony, who had developed a pressing need to talk to her, but she didn't need to screen for Sam, who remained annoyingly silent. It was really frustrating avoiding the calls of somebody who didn't have the decency to pick up a phone. Even the If Dinner turned annoying when Holly told them about meeting Sam's ex-girlfriend.

"Lucy Quinn says he's a great guy," Holly said. "He's just caught up in some kind of pathology where he has to make women love him and then leave him. He got conditional love as a child and now he's desperate for it."

Cedes frowned. "He does not strike me as desperate."

Marley shook her head. "Me, either. The ex sounds sort of over the top."

"Well, she's a psychologist," Holly said. "You know how they are. But it does explain why he'd leave such a string of broken hearts behind him and still be the guy we know. I'm suspicious of him but I don't think he's cruel. He wouldn't enjoy dumping them." She looked back at Cedes. "Lucy Quinn said one of the things he'd do would be to find things you needed and give them to you. I told her about your snow globes, and she said you should brace yourself for incoming."

Cedes shrugged, not wanting to argue. "He brought me takeout from Rory's and then he saw the snow globes."

"And?" Holly said.

"And he told me I collect couples," Cedes said. "Which I had never seen before, but he's right." Holly opened her mouth to object and then got up and went to the mantel. "I'll be damned," she said after a moment. "They're all couples except mine unless Captain Hook is dating Maleficent on the sly. How'd I miss this?"

"The better question is how'd he get it?" Marley said.

Cedes shook her head. "I think he's just really, really, really good with people. Empathetic." She hesitated and then said to Marley, "After you said he was dyslexic, I researched it on the internet. There are all kinds of barriers—"

"Do not feel sorry for him," Holly said.

"I don't," Cedes said. "Are you kidding? Look at him, he has it all. But he's had to work for it. Anyway, one of the aspects of dyslexics is that they're often very empathetic. That's Sam. He spends all his time looking outward, making sure he understands other people. I don't think he has much self-knowledge, but he makes sure he knows the people in his world. He knows me."

Holly put the villains down with a clunk and came back to the table. "No, he doesn't. He's trying—"

"No," Cedes said, losing patience with her. "We talked about my weight. He said I dress like I hate my body."

"Good for him," Holly said. "I mean, he's a beast, but he's right on that one. What did he say exactly?"

Cedes pushed her plate away. "Lots of things, but the gist was that I had a sexy body and I should dress like I'm proud of it."

"Then he asked you to bed," Holly said.

"No, then he said we should eat," Cedes said. "Oh, and he told me what I was doing wrong on the chicken marsala, so I'm going to try it again."

"He brought you food, understood your snow globes, taught you to cook, said you had a sexy body, and left without making a pass," Marley said.

Cedes nodded.

Marley looked at Holly. "He is a beast."

"No, this is what Lucy Quinn was talking about," Holly said. "He will fulfill her every need until she falls for him and then he'll leave.'"

Cedes bit her lip. "Look, I'm not falling for him, although I swear every time he kisses me, I hear voices and see stars. If nothing else, there's that bet. Which I asked him about and which he lied about, so it's over. Really."

"Uh huh," Holly said, clearly not convinced.

* * *

Neither was Cedes, so on Friday afternoon while she was at work, she very sensibly decided not to go to The Long Shot that night and called her sister instead. "I want to go shopping."

"Shopping?" Bree said.

"Somebody told me that I dress like I hate my body."

"You do," Bree said. "You want a makeover? Yes ."

"Just a little," Cedes said, hastily. "I—"

"I know where we'll go," Bree said. "We're going to finally transform you!"

"No," Cedes said. "Soften a little, maybe, but not—"

"I'll be waiting out front at five," Bree said. "This is going to be so much fun."

"Well," Cedes said, but Bree had already hung up. "Oh. Well. All right." She hung up and decided not to worry about transformation until she was actually in Bree's clutches. She went back to finishing up her work week, and then, as she was putting on her jacket to go meet Bree, the phone rang. When she answered, a woman said, "My name is Harmony Evans, and I'm looking for a Cedes Jones who met my son Harrison at Cherry Hill Park a week ago."

"Harmony?" Cedes said, dumbfounded.

"Yes," the woman said. "Oh, good. I'm so sorry to bother you at work, but I couldn't find a home listing. Just a moment." Cedes heard the phone clunk a little, and then Harry came on. "Cedes?" he said, breathing hard into the phone.

"Yes," she said, grinning. "How are you, Harry?"

"I'm fine. Are you coming to the park tomorrow?"

"Well, I wasn't—"

"Because you could come to my game," Harry said, showing an ability to focus that was much like his uncle's. "It's at ten o'clock. In the morning. And we could have a doughnut."

"Well," Cedes said, taken aback.

Harry breathed into the phone again. He sounded like Darth Vader, only smaller.

"Sure," she said. "Why not? I'll get the doughnuts—"

"My mom will get them," Harry said. "I told her what kind."

"Well, good," Cedes said, regrouping. "Thank you for—"

Harry dropped the phone, and Cedes heard Harmony say, "Say good-bye politely, Harry," and Harry came back on and said, "Good-bye," and dropped the phone again.

"Hello?" Harmony said when she'd picked it up.

"Hello," Cedes said, trying not to laugh.

"We're still working on our phone skills," Harmony said.

"He did pretty well," Cedes said. "Except for the heavy breathing."

"I appreciate this," Harmony said. "Harry has spoken of you often this week."

"He has?" Cedes said, surprised.

"And your shoes," Bink said.

"He's a lot like his uncle," Cedes said.

"We can only hope," Harmony said. "Tomorrow at ten, then?"

"Tomorrow at ten," Cedes said and sat for a moment after Harmony hung up. That hadn't been Sam's idea. If he'd wanted her there, he'd have called her. He probably didn't even know she was coming. She finished putting on her jacket and thought about surprising him the next day. It would be good to take him off guard for a change, catch him flatfooted. She picked up her purse and went down to meet Bree, suddenly even more interested in being transformed.

* * *

The next morning, Sam was watching a particularly hopeless outfielder named Bentley try to throw a ball when two cool hands covered his eyes from behind. He smelled lavender and cinnamon and felt a rush of pleasure so intense, he almost sighed. "This is not like you, Mercy," he said, and then he turned and saw Lucy Quinn, like a cold shower, pulling her hands back. "Quinn?"

"Hi," Lucy Quinn said.

"Sorry," Sam said, taking a step back. "You wear the same perfume as a friend of mine. Except she doesn't wear perfume, come to think of it." Nor does she come to these damn games, he thought, mad at himself for making such a stupid mistake.

"Perfume," Lucy Quinn said, looking poleaxed.

"So," Sam said, taking another step back. "How've you been?" A ball rolled past his feet and he bent to pick it up. "You should get back to the other side of the fence. These kids have no control."

"Right," Lucy Quinn said, swallowing. "I just wanted to say, 'Hi!'"

"Hi," Sam said. Something in the bleachers caught his eye and he looked past her to see Harry climbing up to the top. "Where the hell is he—" Sam began and then he looked past Harry and saw Cedes, sitting at the top, her hair cut shorter in loose curls that glinted in the sun. She was wearing a filmy, flowing white shirt, and her face lit up when she saw Harry so that she looked positively angelic, and he lost his breath for a moment. "She cut her hair," he said out loud, and Lucy Quinn said, "What?" and followed his eyes. Sam nodded to the bleachers, recovering. "Go up there and send Harry back down here, will you? He's supposed to be playing ball, not flirting with older women."

"Right," Lucy Quinn said, in that brittle tone that Sam knew meant "I'm very upset, but I'm going to be an adult about it."

"You okay?" he said to her.

"Just fine," Lucy Quinn said, even more brittle, and went around the fence to climb the bleachers.

What's her problem? Sam thought and then forgot her to look back at Cedes again, glowing in the sunlight while Harry wiped his nose on his arm and adored her. _I am not interested in Mercedes Jones_, he told himself._ She's too high maintenance. She's never peaceful. And, oh yeah, she hates me_. Then Cedes smiled at Harry, and Sam thought, _Damn, she's pretty_, and kept staring.

* * *

When Cedes got to the park, the kids were warming up, and she saw Harry out on the field, smaller than the other kids and grubby as usual, and felt a twinge for him. Then he saw her and smiled the Evans smile at her, and she thought,_ Oh, he's going to be fine,_ and smiled back. She climbed up to the top of the bleachers and felt the wind ruffle her newly shortened curls and the fluttery sleeves of her organdy blouse as she sat down. She tried to watch Harry, but it was hard because Sam was there, and her eyes kept going to him._ It's purely physical_, she told herself, but it wasn't; she loved the way he was with the kids. He hated coaching, but he was doing it right. That was Sam.

_Oh, stop it_, she thought. You don't even know him.

A slender blonde walked up behind Sam and put her hands over his eyes, and Cedes thought, Of course, and felt all her ludicrous happiness deflate. It didn't matter that he was good with kids since she didn't want any. But it did matter that he was a beast with women, so—

Someone sat down beside her and said, "Hello," in a beautifully modulated voice, and Cedes turned and saw a dark-haired, sophisticated woman smiling faintly at her. She had a heart-shaped face and huge blue eyes, her black hair was long and curly. "I'm Harmony," she said.

"Right," Cedes said. "Hi. I'm Cedes."

"It's so sweet of you to come for Harry," Harmony said. "I do appreciate it."

"Well, Harry's a sweet kid," Cedes said, looking back to find him, only to discover that he'd escaped from the field and was climbing the bleachers toward them, looking even grubbier as he came closer.

"Most people don't notice that," Harmony said, looking at him with love.

"Hi, Cedes," Harry said when he was one row down. He was beaming at her and she smiled back because anybody would.

"Hey, Harry," she said. "How's it going?"

"I have to play baseball," Harry said. "Otherwise, pretty good."

"Well, live through this and we'll celebrate with a doughnut afterward," Cedes said.

"Cool," Harry said, bobbing his head.

"You're looking good down there on the field," Cedes lied.

"Thanks," Harry said, still bobbing.

"You can really throw that ball," Cedes said, guessing.

"Not really," Harry said, but he didn't seem depressed by that.

He sniffed and kept nodding, and Harmony said, "I think Uncle Sam wants you, Harry," and he turned around and saw Sam and the blonde watching him.

"Yeah," he said and sighed.

"Just keep thinking about that doughnut," Cedes said.

"Cool," Harry said again, beaming at her.

Cedes smiled back.

"I gotta go," Harry said, not going anywhere.

"Good luck," Cedes said.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding for another minute or so. Then his smile faded and he trailed down the bleachers, avoiding his uncle's gaze.

"That was nice of you," Harmony said, and Cedes looked at her, surprised.

"No, it wasn't," she said. "I like Harry."

"Are you all right?" Harmony said.

"Yes," Cedes said. "Why?"

"You were frowning," Harmony said.

"I have to work on my metaphors," Cedes said. "So Harry plays baseball."

"Unfortunately," Harmony said, and Cedes thought, She's not one of the people who Shanghaied Sam and Harry. I wonder —

"Hi!" somebody said brightly from Cedes's other side, and this time when she turned she saw the blonde who'd been flirting with Sam. She had a beautiful face and pretty hazel eyes, and her hair was thick and silky.

Kill me now, Cedes thought as the paragon sat down beside her. I've been bookended by the beautiful and the rich.

"How are you, Harmony?" the woman said, and Harmony smiled at her faintly—Harmony evidently did everything faintly—and said, "Hello, Lucy Quinn."

Lucy Quinn. Cedes turned back to the blonde with renewed horror. Sam's ex. Wearing, Cedes now noticed, a black halter top that wasn't appropriate for a kids' baseball game. Except that Lucy Quinn was wearing it with no self-consciousness at all, probably because her breasts were those perfect perky kind men were always going on about. _Bite me,_ Cedes thought and looked down on the field to see Sam staring up at the three of them with a very strange expression on his face. Probably realizing with horror that he'd been kissing a woman who was never going to wear a size eight. That hurt a lot more than it should have.

"There's Sam," Harmony said.

"What's wrong with him?" Cedes said. "Besides the fact that he hates this."

"He doesn't hate this," Lucy Quinn said. "He agreed with me that this was great for Harry."

"Oh," Cedes said. "This was your idea?"

"Yes," Lucy Quinn said, smiling.

Cedes turned to Harmony. "Lucy Quinn got Harry into baseball."

"Yes," Harmony said. "Lucy Quinn discussed it with Harry's grandmother and they agreed it would be good for him. Harry's grandmother can be very forceful."

"Oh," Cedes said, and turned back to the field to see a batter hit a wobbly shot into left field where a kid on Harry's team bobbled the ball. Sam missed all of it, staring up into the bleachers at them. Then Sam began to turn away, and the kid in the outfield picked up the ball and threw it with desperation and an impossible force for an eight-year-old. It smacked Sam on the back of the head, knocking him off balance so that he fell to his knees and then to the ground.

"No," Cedes said and zapped down the bleachers and around the chain link fence. "Sam?" she said, going down on her knees beside him as he tried to sit up. "Sam?"

He looked dazed, so she stared into his eyes, trying to see if the pupils were different sizes. They weren't, his eyes were the same hot, emerald depths they always were, and she fell into them again, growing breathless, as the music swelled behind her, Elvis Costello singing his heart out on "She," and the voice in her head said **THIS ONE**.

Then she heard Hunter say, "Turn that damn thing off," and when she looked up, she saw two teenagers with a radio next to the fence and Lucy Quinn coming around it to kneel beside Sam, too.

"Sorry," one of the girls said, and the other said, "Is he dead?"

"Go away," Cedes said and they left, taking the music with them.

"Sam, are you all right?" Lucy Quinn said, and Cedes looked down at him again to see him still staring at her.

"Sam?" she said.

The assassin from the outfield came running up. "Did you see that, Mr. Clarington? I really threw it."

"Yeah, you did, Bentley," Hunter said, looking down at Sam. "You okay, there, buddy?"

"I knew I could do it," Bentley said. "I saw Wyman getting close to third base, and something just told me I could do it, and I really threw that sucker, boy."

"Sam, say something," Lucy Quinn said, panic in her voice.

"Boy, I really threw that sucker," Bentley said.

"Yeah," Hunter said. "Too bad you missed third base by a mile and took out Mr. Evans." He crouched down next to Sam. "Say something or Cedes takes you to the ER now."

"Did you hear music?" Sam asked, still staring into Cedes' eyes.

"I really threw that sucker," Bentley said.

Hunter handed Cedes his car keys. "Go. The Cherry Hill ER is a mile up the road ."

"I know the way," Lucy Quinn said, standing. "I have a car." Cedes helped Sam to his feet, trying to steady him as he lurched, and Hunter took his other side.

"I'll take him," Lucy Quinn said. "My car is just—"

"No," Sam said as he righted himself. "If I'm going to throw up, it'll be in Hunter's clunker."

"Drive fast," Hunter said to Cedes and helped them both to the car.

Sam lay on the table in the ER, trying to remember what had happened. He'd been staring at Cedes, watching the breeze flutter the ends of her blouse and tousle her curls, and he'd been telling himself that she was a pain in the ass and that he didn't want anything to do with her, and then that ball had come out of nowhere and—

"Sam?" Cedes said, leaning over him. The fluorescent light above back-lit her hair and she looked like an angel again.

"Hi," he said.

"The doctor said you're going to be all right," she said, trying to look cheerful. "I just filled your prescription." She held up an amber plastic pill bottle. "For the pain. In case you have headaches. Do you have a headache?"

His head felt like a vise. "Yes."

She opened the bottle and dumped out two pills into her palm. "Here," she said, handing them to him.

"I'll get water."

Sam thought about telling her that he'd already had a pain pill and then decided that since the damn thing wasn't working, two more would be good.

"You scared me," she said when she came back with the water. "You got hit in the head. People get killed that way. I don't know how many a year. I haven't had time to look it up."

Sam propped himself up to take the pills. "Bentley," he said bitterly.

"I'm sure he'll be sorry," Cedes said. "When he gets over how hard he threw the ball."

"Little bastard," Sam said without heat. "Was there music? I could swear I heard—"

"—Elvis Costello singing 'She.'" Cedes nodded. "You did. Some kids had it on playing. Which is weird because I don't think it that song is popular with kids today. They had a boombox too which was also weird. I didn't think that this generation knew what radios and cd players are. My sister's using the song at her wedding." She sounded as if she were babbling, which was so unlike Cedes that Sam chalked it up to his general dizziness. "I called Harmony on her cell and told her you were okay and I was taking you home."

"Your sister likes Elvis Costello?" Sam said.

"No," Cedes said. "My sister likes music from Julia Roberts' movies."

"Oh," Sam said and focused on her. "You cut your hair."

"Bree took me to her stylist," Cedes said. "To go with the new clothes. I did what you said."

"I didn't tell you to cut your hair." His eyes dropped to her blouse, looking through the thin fabric to the equally thin camisole underneath, and he almost fell off the table.

"Easy," Cedes said, breathless as she tried to prop up his weight, and he looked down the open neck of her blouse and saw pink lace under the camisole.

"Pink," he said.

"Oh, good, you're feeling better," Cedes said, relief in her voice. "Come on. I'll take you home."

"Okay," Sam said. "I like your hair."

Half an hour later, Cedes pulled up in front of Sam's apartment, having followed his increasingly groggy directions. "Let's go," she said and opened the car door for him.

"I can get up there myself,". Sam said, weaving a little as he got out. "Take the car—"

"You're not going up there alone." Cedes pulled his arm across her shoulders. It felt good there, if heavy.

"My mother raised me better than that."

"Well, then you're going up first so you can't look at my butt."

"There's an elevator, Charm Boy," Cedes said, kicking the door shut behind them. "Move it."

"Wait a minute," he said, and she stopped so he could get his bearings, but he put his hand on her curls again, patting them. "Springy."

"Right," Cedes said and herded him upstairs to a white, slightly battered apartment that looked like something he would have lived in during college. She steered him through a living room furnished with Danish modern furniture that would have made all of Denmark cringe, into an even bleaker, uglier bedroom. "How are you feeling?" she said as she guided him toward his headboard-less bed.

"Better," he said, sounding groggy. "The drugs kicked in and I'm not coaching baseball."

"There you go," she said, "Always a bright side." She shouldered him toward the bed, and he bounced when he sat down.

"You're a lot more aggressive than I thought you'd be." He fell back onto the pillows, but his feet still hung off the side.

"You're a lot heavier than I thought you'd be," Cedes said and realized that was probably because he moved so well when he was conscious. Semiconscious, he moved like a lurching glacier. She pulled off his Nikes, and her heart skipped a beat. "You're a thirteen-D."

"Yes," Sam said, sleepily. "Tell me that proves I'm a beast. You haven't said anything lousy to me all day."

"Tupac wore a thirteen-D," Cedes said, and Sam mumbled, "Good for him." She picked up his feet and threw them on the bed, and then realized that he was way too close to the edge; if he rolled off in his sleep, he'd hit his head on the battered bedside table. She shoved at him to get him to the center of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he said, half asleep as she tried to rock him over.

"Trying to keep you safe," she said between her teeth as she put one knee on the bed and shoved again.

"Roll over, will you?"

He rolled just as she shoved and knocked them both off balance. She grabbed at him to save herself, and he pulled her down with him.

"I should be awake in about eight hours," he yawned into her hair. "Stick around."

"Fine," she said into his chest. "Fall on the floor. Get a concussion. See if I care." He didn't say anything, so she shoved at him again, but it was like shoving at a wall. She stopped to consider the situation. There was something very protective in the way he held onto her. Thoughtful.

He began to snore.

Instinctive.

"Okay," she said and squirmed around until she got one foot on the floor and shoved off, toppling him over onto his back in the middle of the bed, which stopped his snoring. Then she stood up and looked at him, sprawled out on an ugly, generic bedspread in a plain, cheap bedroom with lousy, awkward lighting. He looked sexy as hell.

"It is so unfair," she said to him. "Couldn't you at least drool or something?" He began to snore again.

"Thank you." She opened his closet door and found a blanket folded on the top shelf, over a tasteful collection of expensive suits. "You are so weird," she said to him as she snapped the blanket over him."This place does not look like you at all."

He breathed deeper, and she looked down at the beautiful strong bones of his face, his lashes like smudges on his cheeks as he slept, and thought. _I could love you_.

Then she straightened and returned to reality. Every woman in the city thought that when she looked at him so it wasn't as if ... _Oh, the hell with it_, she thought, and put his shoes where he wouldn't trip over them, got him a glass of water for his bedside table, made sure his pills were within reach and pulled the blanket up so he wouldn't get chilled. Then, at a loss as to what to do next, she patted his shoulder and left.

* * *

On Monday, Anthony picked up the phone and heard Lucy Quinn say, "I talked to Sam. He thinks she smells like lavender. He noticed she cut her hair. His nephew loves her. There was a copulatory gaze in the park."

"Isn't that illegal?"

"Don't make fun, Anthony. This isn't amusing. We could lose them ." He heard her take a deep breath over the phone. "The best thing for you to do right now is to ask her to lunch. Evoke joy. Did you even call her?"

"She's not returning my calls," Anthony said, trying not to sound annoyed.

"How do you feel about that?" Lucy Quinn said. "A little angry?"

"A little," Anthony said. "But—"

"And you're angry that she never let you pay for dinner, too. She was rejecting your sexual advances, just as she's now rejecting your phone calls. So now—"

"This is ridiculous," Anthony said, moving beyond annoyed.

"Your problem is that you're angry with her and she can sense that, so you're going to have to get over it. Now ."

"I'm not angry, damn it," Anthony snapped.

"Ask her to lunch and insist on paying. You'll feel much better, the anger will go away, she'll see you as a potential mate, and then you can make your move."

"This is such crap," Anthony said.

"I don't care," Lucy Quinn said. "Do it. Or she's going to end up with Sam."

_Sam. Sam was going to win that damn bet. He always won the bastard_. "I'll call her," Anthony said. "We'll have lunch. I'll play it by ear."

"Don't screw this up, Anthony," Lucy Quinn said. "My life is riding on it. My career is riding on it. I need that wedding picture on my book cover ."

"You know—" Anthony began, but Lucy Quinn had already hung up. "Wonderful," he said and began to dial Cedes.

* * *

Cedes was sitting at her desk, trying to be sensible, when the phone rang. Sam, she thought, and then kicked herself. They had a good sensible plan that would prevent either one of them from getting hurt, they were logical, rational people so that certainly wasn't him calling her. The phone rang again, and she picked it up and said, "Mercedes Jones," and waited for Sam to say, "Hi, Mercy, thanks for taking care of me."

"Cedes," Anthony said. "Have lunch with me. We need to talk."

"No, we don't," Cedes said, trying hard not to be disappointed. "But I do need lunch. We can go Dutch."

"No, I'll pay," Anthony said. "I mean, I'd like to pay."

"Sure, fine," Cedes said, confused.

"I'll meet you at Serafino's at noon then?" Anthony said.

"Is that the place where the chef is trying to make a statement with food?"

"It's the hottest place in town," Anthony said.

"This should be good," Cedes said and hung up, chalking the whole thing up to the general weirdness of her life lately.

When she got to the restaurant, Anthony was waiting. He stood and smiled when he saw her, and then he stared. Cedes looked down and realized he was focusing on the blue gauze top beneath her gray-checkered jacket.

"You look wonderful," he said.

"I'm evolving," Cedes said, sitting down at the inlaid table. "I'm also starving. What's good here?" She looked around at the silver and blue. "Besides the decorating."

"I already ordered," Anthony said. "I didn't want you to have to wait."

"Thoughtful of you," Cedes called the waiter back and changed her order to salad and chicken marsala. Might as well see what Rory's competition was doing.

"I think I made a mistake," Anthony said when the waiter had placed his bowl of chilled chestnut watercress soup in front of him.

"I think so, too," Cedes said, looking at the beautifully garnished sludge in his bowl. "You're going to hate that soup. There's a hot dog vendor outside. Maybe we should—"

"Not the order." Anthony took a deep breath and smiled. "Cedes, I want you back."

Cedes stopped fishing overly artistic vegetable flourishes out of her salad. "What?"

"I was hasty," Anthony said and went on while Cedes thought_ The bet. That damn bet. You're afraid you're going to lose the bet._

She sat back and considered the situation as Anthony rambled on. Somehow, Anthony had gotten the idea she was going to sleep with Sam. Now, where would that have come from? The thought that it might be Sam gloating to him made her ill for a moment, but then common sense came back. Sam wasn't a gloater. Also, he wasn't dumb, and it would take somebody really dumb to tip off an opponent that he was about to lose. And anyway, Sam wouldn't.

"Are you listening to me?" Anthony said.

"No," Cedes said. "Why are you doing this?"

"That's what I was just telling you—"

"No," Cedes said, "you were telling me about you. You were hasty, you were thoughtless, you were stupid—"

"I didn't say stupid," Anthony said, sounding testy.

"Where am I in all of this?" Cedes said.

"In my life, I hope," Anthony said, and he sounded so sincere, Cedes was taken aback. "I asked you out in the beginning because I thought you'd make a good wife, and I still think that, but what I missed was how. . ." He stopped and took her hand and Cedes let him, just to see what would happen next. ". . . how sweet you are."

"No, I'm not," Cedes said, trying to take her hand back.

"And how..." He looked at her gauze blouse. "... sexy you are. You've changed."

Cedes yanked her hand back. "Anthony, this is buyer's remorse or the opposite of buyer's remorse. If you got me back, you'd dump me again. Go date one of those skinny women you like to look at." Anthony started to say something but stopped as the waiter brought his veal whatever and her chicken marsala. Cedes sliced into the chicken and tasted it. "Bacon. And the tomato. What kind of fool puts bacon and tomato in chicken marsala?"

"Cedes..."

"You can even see the bacon pieces in the sauce. Rory would spit."

"You're not taking me seriously," Anthony said.

"I know," Cedes said, putting down her fork. "Honest to God, what were they thinking?"

"What I'm trying to tell you," Anthony said, "is that I think we should date again."

"No, you don't," Cedes said. "You're panicking because I'm dating somebody else. Taste your soup."

"I'm not—"

"The soup," Cedes said.

Anthony tasted the soup and made a face. "What the hell?"

"I told you." Cedes pushed her plate away. "Never go anyplace the chef is trying to talk with food. You'll end up paying for his ego. Sort of like dating." She picked up her purse. "I'm sorry, Anthony, but we have no future. We're not even going to finish this lunch, although I do appreciate you paying for it. Thank you."

"Where are you going?" Anthony said, outraged as she stood up.

"To get a hot dog," Cedes said. "I think that the vendor had brats."

* * *

Rory called Sam on Tuesday night at six.

"Cedes ordered takeout again," he said. "You taking it to her?"

"Yes," Sam said automatically and then remembered they weren't seeing each other. "No." Which didn't mean they couldn't be friends. "Yes." Which was a huge rationalization. "No."

"Uh huh," Rory said. "So that's a no?"

On the other hand, he had to eat. And he should thank her for taking care of him on Saturday. And he wanted to see her. "No," Sam said. "That's a yes. I'll take it to her."


	10. Chapter 8

**You are all awesome. I am a tennis fanatic and yesterday was a Wimbledon day instead of reading, reviewing, and revising. This is a very short chapter, and I think no warnings are necessary. Please remember I own none of this but my mistakes. **

**Chapter Eight**

Cedes answered the door in her godawful sweats again, no makeup and her curly hair going every which way. She looked wonderful. "Hi," she said, sounding surprised, and then she grinned. "Rory Shanghaied you, huh?"

"He said you were starving," Sam said, smiling back in spite of himself. "You took me to the ER. You put a glass of water by my bed. I owe you."

"That's lame," she said, but she stood back and he walked in.

"What's that I smell?"

"I'm going to rethink the whole cooking my own chicken marsala thing."

"Speaking of which," Sam said, "what happened this time?" Cedes groaned and went back to the alcove and Sam followed her, feeling right at home. "It doesn't look bad," he said when he saw her latest effort. "It just doesn't look like chicken marsala."

"I was trying to avoid the olive oil and butter," Cedes said, and then held up her hand before he could speak. "I know, I know, I'm learning my lesson. I used chicken broth instead. It smells good but it doesn't look right."

"That would be because olive oil and chicken broth are not the same things," Sam said. "You're all right. Just make a roux to thicken the broth and serve it over fettuccine."

"A roux," Cedes said.

"Melted butter and flour," Sam said. "I don't suppose there's a chance in hell you have butter."

"Marley might," Cedes said. "I don't have fettuccine or flour, either. I'll go borrow them from her."

"Do you have a big pot for the noodles and a colander?" Sam said, looking around the spare alcove. She's got to find a better place.

"No, but we can borrow the ingredients from Marley, and I left a box of that kind of stuff with her when I moved in. It was too heavy to bring up here and she had a full sized kitchen when I only have this tiny kitchenette," Cedes said.

"That's convenient. Do you want to learn to cook, Mercy?" he said with more affection than he'd intended.

Cedes blinked. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"Then you'll to have your pots and pans in your kitchen," Sam said.

They went to Marley's apartment and luckily she had everything they needed. Sam encouraged Mercedes to buy her own butter and good ingredients if she was serious about cooking. Then they went back upstairs with the butter, flour, and pasta and her box of pots and pans.

Teaching Cedes how to make a roux should have been pretty innocuous, but the kitchenette was tiny, and she was close, and her curls smelled like lavender, and there wasn't anything about her that wasn't round, and there was that brass bed with a satin comforter just a room away, so after he'd explained the basics of roux, Sam retreated to unpack the box to stop himself from doing something utterly foolish.

"What is this?" Sam asked holding up a blue and white bowl.

Cedes looked back. "It's an egg-beater bowl. There should be a metal lid for it with a beater in it." Sam dug around the box until he found it. The lid sat on the bowl with the crank for the beaters above it, and the beaters below. "That's pretty neat," he said and picked up the next wrapped package, a heavy one which turned out to be nested mixing bowls, thick white china with a blue stripe.

"Oh," Cedes said, "I remember those, my grandma used to make cookies in the big one. That was back when I ate cookies."

"The good old days." Sam picked up the next package. It was heavy and round and as he unwrapped it, he began to realize what it was. When he pulled the last of the paper away, he wasn't that surprised to see a snow globe with Mickey inside, dipping Minnie in her pink dress. But he was appalled.

"So, how long does this cook?" Cedes said. "I mean before the flour loses the raw flavor? Sam?" She looked back at him. "What's wrong?"

He held up the snow globe, and she froze over the pan.

It was heavy in his hand, heavier than a snow globe should be. He tipped it and saw the key on the bottom. "Music box?" he said to her and she nodded. "What does it play?"

"'It Had to Be You,'" she said, faintly.

"Of course." Sam looked at Mickey and Minnie, trapped forever in the globe.

_Bring my grandma's snowglobe back to me and I'll love you until the end of time_."I've been looking for that for fifteen years," Cedes said, her voice flat. "And then you go right to it. How do you do that?"

"It's not me." Sam put it down on the counter.

"You didn't make a deal with the devil, did you?" Cedes said, staring at it.

"What?"

"You know, some kind of bargain where everything you did would be perfect so that every woman you met would be unable to resist you, only you forgot to mention that should work only with women you wanted, and now we're stuck in this loop with each other?"

Sam took a deep breath. "Okay, leaving aside the fact that you think the devil is making deals, I'm a little upset that you think I'd be hanging out with him."

"Well, hell, Sam, you're practically his first cousin," Cedes said. "You're tall, you're handsome, you're charming, you wear suits, you never sweat, and you always show up with whatever I'm needing at the moment. That snow globe has been lost for fifteen years. I keep getting this feeling that if I say yes to you, I'll go straight to hell."

Sam nodded. _Why did I come back here?_ "Okay. You know, I'm not hungry anymore. I think I'll be going."

"That might be a good idea," Cedes said, staring at the snow globe.

He picked up his jacket and headed for the door and then paused as he opened it. "Have a—" he started to say and then stopped.

"Nice life?" Cedes said, still staring at the globe.

He shook his head. "It just doesn't have the same ring to it," he said and went down the stairs.

When he was gone, Cedes walked over to the snow globe and wound it. It began to tinkle the first bars of "It Had to Be You," and she looked into it, and tried to get her breath back. The dome was heavy and perfect, sitting atop a black art deco base, and inside silver glitter and tiny silver stars swirled as Minnie beamed out at her, happy to be in Mickey's arms, and Mickey beamed at Minnie. _Maybe that's what I loved it,_ she thought. That she was so happy and he thought she was wonderful. Plus there was that swirling pink dress Minnie was wearing and the great pink shoes to match. Well, the shoes were a little plain. Cedes tipped the globe to see, and the glitter and stars swirled again as the song slowed down and ran out.

It's not me, Sam had said, but it was him. She'd been going along, perfectly happy, and then he'd walked into the bar and shaken up her life and suddenly it was all glitter and stars everywhere. And every time things calmed down, every time she got things back to normal, he came back and shook her. Of course, it wasn't him. Coincidences happened all the time. That was life. As long as nothing else happened . ..

"I'll just stay away from him," she herself. "I won't go to The Long Shot unless I know he won't be there, and this will all pass and I'll be normal again. No more glitter."

* * *

On Wednesday, Holly was at the bar trying to signal Santana when Lucy Quinn sat down next to her and smiled at her. "Hi. Where's your friend?"

"She said she had to stay home," Holly said, "but I think she's avoiding Sam."

"That's a good idea," Lucy Quinn said. "The best way to resist him is to stay away from him." She looked around the bar. "Do you see him?"

"No," Holly said. "Hunter said he's working late. Why?"

"Because if she's not here, he should be working on you."

"Me?" Holly said, appalled. "She's gone so he's going to pick me up?"

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "It's important to the health of a relationship that her friends and family approve of him. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to charm you yet."

"He's not dumb," Holly said. "And we're not buddies."

"Well, your friend is doing the right thing by avoiding him," Lucy Quinn said. "I don't think he's going to get to her at all."

"He got to you, though, huh?" Holly said.

Lucy Quinn lifted her chin. "I. . ."

Holly waited.

"Yes," Lucy Quinn said. "He got to me."

"Rat bastard," Holly said.

"No, he's not," Lucy Quinn said. "He just—"

"Needs approval from women because of Mommie Dearest," Holly said. "You know, with all you know about him, you could write a book."

Lucy Quinn sipped her drink.

"Ah," Holly said. "You are writing a book."

"Yes," Lucy Quinn said. "But not about... well, not entirely about..."

"Boy," Holly said. "So when he left, you lost a lover and a research subject. I don't understand this. You're an expert in this relationship stuff and he still got to you?"

Lucy Quinn bit her lip. "What you know logically doesn't help if you're feeling something emotionally."

The pain on her face was real, and Holly put her hand on Lucy Quinn's arm. "I'm sorry."

"You know," Lucy Quinn said, sticking her chin out, "it's not a problem. There are people with much worse problems than mine."

"Doesn't make yours any more fun to bear," Holly said.

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "But it does help with the self-pity." She shoved her glass away. "If I've made Sam seem like a bad guy—"

"You haven't," Holly said. "In fact, I think you have a pretty rosy view of him."

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "He's a good—"

"I don't care. I just want him to stay away from Cedes."

"Me, too," Lucy Quinn said.

She finished her drink and left, and Santana came down the bar and said, "Refill?"

Holly smiled. "Tell me about Sam Evans."

"Why?" Santana said, warily.

"Because he's been kissing my best friend, and I've heard he has a commitment problem."

Santana shrugged. "Him and half the male population."

"Half of the male population isn't kissing Cedes," Holly said. "He's not serious about her, is he?"

Santana bit her lip. "He's the best guy I know. If I was ever in trouble, I'd call Sam, and he would come and get me out, I know that in my soul."

"And yet, not an answer to my question," Holly said.

Santana was quiet for a moment and then she said, "Tell your friend not to get invested. He doesn't stay."

"Thank you," Holly said.

"But he's a really good guy," Santana said.

"I keep hearing that," Holly said, getting up. "I'm just having trouble believing it."

* * *

At seven, Sam decided that one more minute of looking at the seminar packet would make him beat his head against the desk and he'd had enough cranial injury for the month. On the other hand, looking at Cedes at The Long Shot would only lead to being called the devil again. Or, if she was having a good day, a beast. He stood up and stretched, and then set out for home, slowing down as he passed the Gryphon Theater. They were doing the last week of the John Carpenter revival, and there was a very short line out in front for _Ghosts of Mars_ the movie that was considered the worst John Carpenter movie ever made.

_The movie was horrible but it would be the thing to get his mind of Cedes_, he thought._ Haven't seen it since I was a kid, so maybe it's not as bad as I remember._ The last person left the box office, and he went up and bought a ticket. Better than spending the night alone, concentrating on not thinking about. . . her.

As he walked in, the previews were running for the Tupac Shakur series, and he thought of Cedes. Forget her, he told himself and found a place a few rows down and a few seats over, surrounded by empty seats. But as the movie began and Ballard and her team were trying to find all of the people missing, a group of five came in and asked him to move down and he did. The person to the right of his new seat was quiet, so he slouched down and lost himself in the movie, peaceful for the first time since the night before. When the lights came up, he stood up to go at the same time as the woman on his right. Petite height, medium length curly hair, turning now to get her gray-checkered jacket...They stared at each other for a long, dumbstruck moment, and then she walked out of the theater and he followed. When they were outside, she turned and looked at him.

"What are the odds?" Sam said.

"I don't even know how to calculate the odds," Cedes said, and started walking, and he fell into pace beside her because she shouldn't walk home alone in the dark in the city.

_Coincidence_, Sam told himself. Happens all the time. No big deal. Means nothing. When they got to her apartment, she climbed the steps without any arguing about who was going first, and for once he was too stunned to think about her rear end. At her door she turned and said, "Thank you for walking me home," and he said, "You're welcome." They looked at each other for one long moment, and Sam felt breathless, falling into her eyes, and he thought, _Oh, Christ, no, not you_. Then she shook her head and went inside and closed the door, and he turned and walked down fifty-eight steps to the street, not sure whether to be relieved or not.

He paused and looked up at the dormer that was her bedroom window. He imagined Cedes sitting down on that satin comforter, lying back on embroidered pillows that smelled of lavender, her dark curls against the blue satin, and he put himself there, beside her, pulling her to him, her arms around him, all her warm roundness against him, soft and yielding, imagined taking her lush mouth, feeling the swell of her breast under his hand, the rise of her hips to his, imagined pushing into all that softness, shuddering into the hot wetness of her, hearing her moan and sigh as he moved, and he realized that he wanted her more than he could ever have imagined wanting anything or anyone else.

The light went out in her bedroom and broke the spell, and he closed his eyes against the darkness and the cold shock of reality. Then he turned and started back to the main street, to light and noise and safety.

* * *

On Thursday, when Holly showed up at Cedes' apartment for the If Dinner, Marley answered the door looking cautious. When Holly lifted her eyebrows to ask 'What?', Marley shook her head and stood back to let her in.

"Hi," Cedes said, a little too quietly, and Holly thought, _That rat bastard Sam._

"What did he do?"

"Nothing," Cedes said. "Sit down. I made a huge Cobb salad and I'm starving. Let's eat."

After ten minutes of bread, salad, and stilted conversation, Holly had had enough. "I talked to Lucy Quinn last night. She said Sam would try to—"

"I like him," Marley said.

Holly sat back in her chair. "What?"

"I like Sam," Marley said.

"That doesn't mean you should encourage—"

"It doesn't matter," Cedes said, and they both turned to look at her. "I'm trying to get away from him, but it's not working. Remember that snow globe I lost? He found it. He came over on Tuesday and went straight down to the Marley's and picked it out of the extremely heavy box of my old pots, pans, and bowls that I had, and he found the snow globe inside of it."

"Dumb luck," Holly said.

"And then last night, I decided to go to the movies," Cedes said. "And when the lights came up, guess who was sitting beside me?"

"Now that's creepy," Holly said, going cold. "He's stalking you."

"No," Cedes said. "I picked up the paper, and the movie fell out, and I saw _Ghosts of Mars _was at the revival theater, and I thought, 'Oh, good, a movie I won't see a single soul I know because it was so horrible even though Ice Cube and Pam Grier are in it,' and I went on an impulse. I didn't tell anybody. And there he was. It's like he's magic."

"It's like he's the devil," Holly said.

"It's like he's the prince," Marley said.

Holly and Cedes looked at her.

"In the fairy tale," Marley said. "He has to go on quests to get you. And the snow globe was one."

"Marley, honey," Cedes said, jarred out of her numbness. "Let's do the Ifs instead. If I were a sane person, I wouldn't be so freaked out by this. So I'm going to be a sane person and not be freaked out. Holly? What's your If?"

"If I find out Sam Evans is stalking you, I'm going to tear him limb from limb," Holly said. "Marley?"

"If you two get any dumber, I'm going to have to find new friends," Marley scowled at Cedes. "Sam's going to do all the things that you need for him to do for you. Just like in the fairy tale. You said his kiss woke you up. It's like you are Snow White and he is Prince Charming."

"What I said was that his kiss turned me on," Cedes said. "Not the same thing." She leaned forward a little. "I was fine with using the fairy tale as a sort of metaphor, Marl, but this is real life. No prince, no stepmother, no poisoned apple."

"And no happy ending if you think like that," Marley said. "True love is beating you over the head to get your attention, and you're rejecting it because you don't want to believe. You have the fairy tale right in front of you —"

''Wait a minute," Holly said, trying to head off disaster.

"And you're worse," Marley said, turning on her. "Cedes doesn't believe in love for her, but you don't believe in it for anybody. You're a love nihilist."

"A love nihilist." Holly thought about it. "I kind of like that."

"Well, I don't," Cedes said. "I believe in love. I think. I just don't believe in fairy tales."

"I have known my whole life that sooner or later my prince would come," Marley said to Cedes. "How many times have you told me that everybody gets lucky breaks in business but not everybody is ready for them? Well, it's true about love, too. I've been planning my marriage my whole life because I'm smart enough to know that's the most important decision I'll ever make, and now Ryder's here, and I'm ready to go. And you two are going to miss it when it comes for you because you don't want to believe because if it isn't true, you'll be disappointed. But not believing in true love doesn't make it not exist."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on —"

"You're planning on being disappointed, you'd be disappointed if you weren't disappointed, your whole world view depends on men disappointing you." Marley picked up her plate. "Well, that's just cowardly. Especially you," she said, scowling at Cedes. "You've got Sam right in front of you and he is busy loving you so much he can't see straight, you've got fate sending you so many signals even I can see them, and you're holding on to that bet like a shield. You haven't even asked him about the bet, have you?"

"What's he going to say?" Cedes said. "'Yeah, but I'm really your prince and I love you truly, come to bed with me so I can win a bet I made with your ex'?"

"You're not usually this slow," Marley said, "so it must be just chicken-hearted fear. What if this is real? What if he is your happily ever after and he truly loves you so much that it's forever? Then what are you going to do?" She shook her head. "You don't know. You never prepared for that. You've thought about everything in your life, but you never thought about that. You're hopeless." She took her plate out to the kitchen and came back to shove her chair under the table. "I'll see you tomorrow at The Long Shot. I'm going to go see Ryder and remember why I believe."

"Marl, wait," Cedes said, getting up, but Marley was already at the door. When she slammed it behind her, Cedes sat down across from Holly.

"Well, at least we're sane," Cedes said.

"Yeah," Holly said. "How's that working out for you?"

"Not that well," Cedes said. "Did you bring dessert?"

"Cherry Dove Bars," Holly said.

"Give me one," Cedes said. "I'll be sensible tomorrow."

* * *

On Friday, Sam was settling in to stay home for a change on the theory that if he didn't leave the apartment, nothing weird would happen to him, when he heard "She" go on next door.

"Oh, for crying out loud," he said and then stopped because that was what Cedes always said. "No," he told himself and went next door to distract himself with Santana. "You got dumped again?" he said when she opened the door.

"No," she said, serious, but not tear-stained. "I'm trying to figure out my life. Come on in."

"Figure out your life?" Sam said, following her.

"I keep thinking if I listen to this song, there'll be a clue," Santana said, getting out her bottle of Glenlivet.

"If you're planning your life based on a popular song, you need that Scotch more than I do," Sam said.

"It's not that." Santana poured his drink. "I've always gone on the theory that one day the right woman would show up and I'd know."

"You've pretty much disproved that one," Sam said, taking the glass she handed him.

"So I thought since Elvis Costello had already made a list of things the perfect woman would have, I'd start there, and sort of figure out what kind of person I'd want to spend the rest of my life with. And then if I met somebody who didn't fit the list..."

"That's very organized of you." Sam sat down on the couch and thought,_ That's very Cedes of her_.

"But the thing is," Santana was saying, "Elvis is not saying she's perfect. So I'm thinking maybe I just need a few key things. Like she should be kind."

"Yes," Sam said, remembering Cedes with Harry.

"And smart," Santana said. "Somebody I don't have to explain everything to."

"Maybe," Sam said, thinking about explaining chicken marsala to Cedes. "It's not a crime not to know everything. I'd make that somebody who was open to new ideas, willing to learn. And who had things to teach you."

"See, this is good," Santana said, sitting down on her coffee table trunk. "And I thought a sense of humor would be important."

"Right," Sam said. "If you can't laugh at the screwups, what's the point?"

"And because I'm superficial, I put down physically attractive," Santana said.

"Me, too," Sam said, trying not to think of Cedes in all her hot glory. "And great shoes."

"What?" Santana said.

"Nothing. What else?"

"That was it," Santana said. "I didn't want to make too long a list. Kind, smart, funny, attractive. How's that?"

"Damn good if you can find it," Sam said.

"Didn't you?" Santana said. "Cedes? She seemed—"

"Not dating her," Sam said. "Barely know her."

"Uh huh," Santana said. "And why is that? She's pretty, she's kind, she's smart, she makes you smile, and you get all dazed when you kiss her. What is it that she doesn't have?"

"Well," Sam began and stopped. "She doesn't want to be in a relationship with anyone but Tupac and she thinks I am a charming friend of the devil who can't really be trusted. Who wants to deal with all of that?"

"Chicken," Santana said. "You could walk away from all the other ones because they weren't right. This is the real thing, so you're running."

"This from a woman who just made a shopping list for love." Sam stood up and handed the Scotch back to her. "I'm going now. Best of luck with that list."

Santana clucked at him as he went out the door, and he went home to ignore her. Once there, he realized that he hadn't had dinner, and he wasn't going out because if he did, he'd fall over Cedes.

"Not a problem," he told himself and went out to the kitchen. He had bread and peanut butter and not much else, so he plugged in the toaster and put the bread in and then he leaned against the refrigerator and waited for the toast to pop.

His kitchen was ugly, he realized as he looked around. And through the archway, his living room was worse. Maybe if he fixed the place up a little, he'd want to stay home more. He was getting too damn old to be hanging out in bars anyway. The phone rang and he grabbed it, grateful to have a distraction.

"Samuel?" he heard his mother say, but even she was better than the silence.

"Mother," he said. "How are you?" His toast popped, and he cradled the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he opened the peanut butter.

"I'm calling about dinner on Sunday," she said.

"I will be there, Mother," Sam said, thinking, _I'm there the third Sunday of every month, Mother._ He was definitely in a rut.

"I'd like you to pick up our guest."

"Guest?" Sam said as he got out a table knife to spread the peanut butter.

"Mercedes Jones," his mother said.

"What?" Sam said and dropped the knife.

"I called her because Harrison has been speaking of her often, and it occurred to me that it would be nice for him to have her there."

Sam sighed. "What did she say when you called?"

"She seemed surprised," his mother said. "But when I explained that Harrison would be so pleased if she came—"

"She said yes," Sam said, reaching for his toast. "However, I cannot bring her because I will not be seeing her ever aga—" His fingers brushed the metal top of the toaster and he burned himself and dropped the phone. " Damn it," he said and put his scorched fingertips in his mouth.

"Samuel?" his mother said from the phone.

He picked up the receiver. "I burned myself on the toaster. Sorry." Sam turned on the cold water and stuck his fingers underneath the stream. "Anyway, I will not be seeing Mercedes Jones again." He stepped away from the sink onto something hard and his foot slipped out from under him and smacked into the cabinets. "Ouch."

"Samuel?" his mother said.

"I stepped on a knife." Sam bent to pick up the peanut butter knife and smacked his head into the counter. " Hell."

"Did you cut yourself?" his mother asked.

"No. I..." He put the knife in the sink. "I'll call you tomorrow, Mother."

"Samuel?" his mother said, and he hung up on her and considered the situation. He was sabotaging himself, that had to be it. He was distracted, he was tired, he was hungry, he was careless. He picked up the phone again and called Hunter's cell.

"Hello?" Hunter yelled over the noise of the bar.

"Is Cedes there with you?" Sam said.

"Wait a minute," Hunter said and came back on a minute later without the background noise. "Sorry. What?"

"Is Cedes with you? I'm trying to make sure that wherever I go next, she won't be." He frowned. "She's driving me to incoherence."

"She's stalking you?" Hunter said, sounding skeptical.

"No, she doesn't want it, either," Sam said. "It's like we're stuck inside a box. We try to go our separate ways and then we end up with each other anyway. You're not going to Rory's, are you?"

"Chaos theory," Hunter said. "Cedes's a strange attractor."

"This is true," Sam said. "Are you going to Rory's tonight, or can I go eat in the kitchen there?"

"You can go," Hunter said. "Seriously, the box you're talking about is the field of your attraction. You and Cedes try to get away and you hit the sides of the box at random because you're unstable, never repeating, but making a pattern."

"Good for us," Sam said. "Just keep Cedes away from Rory's, will you? I'm starving."

"I think she and Holly are going someplace," Hunter said. "They've been talking all night about some job Cedes wants Holly to take, and I think Cedes's going to drag her there to show it to her. Unless Rory's been advertising for help, it's not there."

"He hasn't," Sam said. "He's full up on nephews. Thanks, Hunter. I'll see you tomorrow." He hung up, changed out of his work clothes, and started for Rory's, trying not to think about Cedes. That didn't work, so he switched over to chaos theory, of which he had only vague memories. The Butterfly Effect, he remembered that the idea that a butterfly flapping its wings in Hong Kong could cause a hurricane ten years later in Florida or prevent a tornado ten years later in Texas, take your pick because it was unpredictable. That was Cedes; she'd looked harmless that first night, and then she flapped her wings two weeks ago and now he was a mess. She was a stealth butterfly. He looked down the block at the front of the Gryphon Theater, half expecting to see Cedes standing there since it was the first night of the Tupac revival week. Nope. Which made sense, since events did not repeat in chaos theory. Somehow, the idea that it was science made the whole thing a lot less worrisome. He wasn't insane, fate wasn't stalking him, he was just standing on the edge of chaos.

He turned down the street to Rory's, trying to remember what "the edge of chaos" meant. It was something about flipping a coin, something about the edge being the moment when the coin was in the air. The point at which the system was pure potential, about to choose a path. Or something about a pile of sand, adding sand one grain at a time, and the edge of chaos is the point at which the critical grain landed and the pile either shifted or turned into an avalanche ... Sam slowed as he remembered a grad assistant in a baggy blue sweater, his hair standing on end from his complete earnestness about the subject, saying that the edge of chaos was a time of turbulence, mental chaos if the system was a human being, but also the time of greatest potential, possibly the place where life starts. "The place," the grad student had said, "where the system cascades into a new order and moves from being to becoming."

Sam shook the grad student out of his head and pulled open the door to Rory's. When he got inside, he heard Ryder say, "Sam!" and he stopped, frozen, knowing before he turned that Cedes would be there, strange attractor, effective butterfly, locus of fate. He turned and saw her, sitting at a table with everybody else, looking like a startled cherub, her beautiful lips open in surprise, her dark eyes wide, and he felt his breath go again, felt his blood heat, his entire system rushing about insanely, bouncing off the inside of his skin, his future impossible to predict, everything riding on his next lurch through chaos. Cedes bit her lip and smiled at him ruefully, and without another thought, he walked across the room to her, feeling almost relieved as the avalanche began.


	11. Chapter 9

**Heads up a very slight dysfunctional family trigger at the end of this chapter because Janette is back, George is back, and we finally meet Jake ooh la la. This is a long chapter because I didn't take a lot out of the original work as I did with previous chapters. I hope you enjoy it. Standard Disclaimer and all that jazz. And I really appreciate you all taking the time to review, follow, favorite, and most of all read this version of _Bet on Me_. I won't be able to update this story for a while, so I should be putting up Chapters 9-11 today if I can, so when I get back to being online, I won't have a missed a chapter upload a day.**

**Chapter Nine**

Sam pulled a chair from another table, and Cedes scooted over to let him in. She was wearing another soft shirt, this one in panels of different colored sheer prints, and she looked pretty and warm and more desirable than he could have imagined.

Hunter caught his eye, shrugged and looked apologetic.

"Hunter said you'd told him you were going to work late tonight," Cedes said as he sat down.

"I lied."

Cedes shifted a little more to give him room, and he caught the faint scent of lavender and felt dizzy again.

"Well, at least you're honest about your dishonesty."

"I was raised to be charming, not sincere,'" Sam said, and relaxed as she smiled at him.

"You know _Into the Woods_?" Cedes said, "That's my favorite Sondheim."

"Mine, too," Sam said, watching her face. "Hunter likes _Sweeney Todd_, and Ryder's is _Sunday in the Park with George,_ but—"

"You're kidding me," Cedes said, blinking those dark eyes at him. "You're all Sondheim fans?"

"We roomed with a drama minor in college." _God, you look so good; I can't believe how much I miss you when you are not around._

"There was a fourth roommate?" Cedes said, and then she closed her eyes. "Of course there was. Rory. It was his restaurant you worked in when you were in college."

"No," Sam said. "It was his girlfriend's and soon to be wife's grandfather's restaurant, Mottas. His grandmother-in-law was the pastry chef, and she is the one who is baking the wedding cake for your sister even though she has retired from professional baking. Rory just went out on his own about two years ago."

"And he's not setting the world on fire." Cedes nodded. "That's why I brought Holly here. It took me all night to talk her into it, but I think she likes the place."

"Good," Sam said, not following and not caring. It felt too damn good to be sitting next to her again to insist on clarity, too.

"Holly's a fixer," Cedes said. "She finds businesses that need help and then she . . . helps them."

"So, she advertises that she can fix things," Sam said, not caring.

"No," Cedes said. "She chooses. There are a lot of places that need a kick in the butt to get going, and Holly gets a job and provides the kick. She's not good for the long term, once things are good she leaves, but for the year she stays, magic happens." She grinned at him. "Sort of like you and women. Come to think of it, you and Holly have a lot in common. Maybe that's why you two can't seem to get along with each other."

"Hey," Sam said wanting to argue that he and Holly had nothing in common, but then he caught sight of Rory, gesturing to him from the kitchen door. "Be right back."

Rory dragged him through the door when he got there. "There's a woman out there," Rory said. "The redhead with Hunter. She just told me she's thinking about working here. Is she delusional?"

"Not even a little bit," Sam said. "Hunter knows her better than I do, but if you're asking, I vote you hire her. It can't hurt, and Cedes says she's a genius at what she does."

"What does she do?" Rory said.

"I'm not sure," Sam said, looking through the round window on the door to see Cedes. "I'm just going on what Cedes says."

"Cedes." Rory nodded. "Cedes I trust."

"Me, too," Sam said and followed Rory back to the table in time to hear Cedes say, "So here's something I just found out. These guys are Sondheim freaks."

"What?" Holly said, turning to Hunter in amazement.

"What?" Hunter said back. "I can't have facets?"

"Because of Rory," Cedes said. "Which I bring up because I want to hear his voice."

"Uh," Rory said.

"Don't fight it," Sam said, sitting down next to Cedes again. "She gets what she wants, too."

"I like the 'Moments' song," Cedes said, grinning at Rory. "Or 'Into the Woods.' That's peppy."

"Nah," Hunter said. "'Sweeney Todd.'" He sang the first line of "Sweeney Todd" in a surprisingly true bass, and Ryder joined in on the next line, and they sang until Rory gave up and helped them finish on"the demon barber of Fleet... Street," while Sam watched Cedes smile and thought, _Kiss me_.

"Probably not the best thing to sing in a restaurant," Sam said when Cedes was done clapping, and Rory winced.

"You don't sing?" Cedes said to Sam.

"Only in the shower," Sam said and imagined Cedes in the shower.

"Wuss," Hunter said, breaking the moment. "He can sing, he's just a coward."

"But you are not," Holly said, turning back to Hunter. "You are multi-talented. Who would have guessed it?"

"What else does he do?" Marley said, and Hunter grinned at her.

"He has skills we'll discuss later," Holly said. "This is excellent pasta, Rory. This place should be packed every night."

"Which is your job," Cedes said to her. "Save Rory. I love him."

"I think it could work," Holly said. "Let me check out the kitchen first." She got up, walked past Rory, and pushed her way through the swinging doors.

"Is she—" he said to Cedes.

"She's the best waitress you'll ever have," Cedes said. "And she will get you, business. She's checking out your kitchen now. If you pass muster, you've got her."

Rory went to protect his kitchen from Holly, and Sam poured more wine into Cedes' glass. "Drink this. I'm about to try to talk you into something, and I need you happy but not drunk."

"I kind of miss the charm," Cedes said, picking up her glass. "Listen, I was thinking about the snow globe and the movie and everything, and I apologize for calling you the devil after all you did to help me. I was out of line. The things that are happening are not your doing; they were all coincidences."

"Yeah," Sam said. "Hunter thinks it's chaos theory."

"Marley thinks it's the fairy tale," Cedes said and sipped her wine.

"Fairy tale?" Sam said, lost again.

"You know, you're a prince given these quests to win my love, it's meant to be, we'll live happily ever after. It's okay, she's sane on everything else." Cedes smiled at him. "The point is, we'll be fine as long as we stick to the plan."

"Right," Sam said. "The plan." Her lips were so soft and full, curved in that comforting smile, and he started to get dizzy again. _Kiss me_. "I think we should start dating. Want to go to the movies?"

Cedes blinked at him and put down her glass. "Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Everything was a coincidence, we should stick to the plan," Sam said. "That's not going to work for me."

Cedes folded her arms. "Why not?"

"Because if we don't date, the universe is going to seriously injure me."

"What?"

"The universe, God, fate, chaos theory, fairy tales, the spirit of Tupac, I don't know what it is, but I'm not fighting it anymore." Sam leaned closer and caught the faint scent of lavender again as Cedes looked at him as if he were insane. "You hate on me, you're high maintenance, you're pathological about food, and your best friend will kill me someday, but it doesn't matter. I'm going to give this a shot. Does your mother still want to check me out at dinner? I'll go."

"Why, if I'm that awful?" Cedes said, looking annoyed.

He smiled down into her beautiful face. "Because you're smart and kind and funny, and my nephew is crazy about you, and you wear great shoes, and you look like a very naughty sexy angel." _Because I'm going to go crazy if I don't touch you I would do anything just to kiss your lips right now; they are calling to me telling me to lick them, gently open them, and then make love to your mouth the way I want to make love to your body nice and slow and then hard and fast_.

"Uh huh." Cedes nodded. "And because of that, you're going to dinner at my parents' house tomorrow night so my mother can see you're harmless?"

"Tomorrow?" He nodded, trying not to look appalled. "Good. We'll go ahead and get that out of the way fast. Tomorrow night it is. So about tonight—"

"On the dating thing? No, so you're off the hook with my mother, you do not need to go to dinner. But if you want to do a friends-night-out thing, we could go to the movies. _Poetic Justice_ is playing at ten o'clock."

"_Poetic Justice_," Sam said. "I don't suppose that's some kind of literary porn."

"It's part of the Tupac revival," Cedes said. "You don't have to go."

Sam sighed. "Yes, I do. And I'm going to your parents' home for dinner tomorrow, too."

"I'm not understanding this at all," Cedes said, and he took her hand, happy to be touching her again, and said, "Come with me, Mercy. I will explain."

He pulled her out of her chair and across the restaurant to the front door, and when they were out on the darkened street, he leaned down, his heart pounding, and he kissed her with no reservation at all. The familiar rush was fast and hot as always, hotter because he wasn't fighting it, but there was comfort there and he was able to kiss her nice and slow luxuriating in the taste of her, too, she felt so right under his hands, against his mouth, and when she slipped her arms around his neck, he kissed her harder and faster, falling into her helplessly, not even trying to save himself. He felt her move closer, and her perfect mouth opened wider as her lush body pressed against him, and years passed, and he saw paradise, and the voice in his head whispered, **THIS ONE, YOU IDIOT**. Then something smacked him hard on the arm and jarred them both out of the kiss.

"What the—" he began, still holding on to her, and then saw Holly, standing on the sidewalk with her purse. "You know, if Marley is right, a leprechaun will be by any minute to kneecap you for being the villainess in this fairy tale."

"Holly," Cedes said, stepping away from him a little, and he felt cold where she'd been touching him and held on to her.

"I didn't hit him on the head," Holly said.

Sam looked at Cedes. "Forget her. You want to know why? This is why. It really is bigger than both of us, and I, for one, am not fighting it anymore." She opened her mouth to say something and he said, "And you want this, too."

Holly scowled at him. "Oh, tell me you know her. Tell me—"

"Yes, I do know her, although not as well as I'm going to," Sam said, facing her down. "And yes, I care about her. A lot. And I don't know the rest, but I'm going to find out. Is that all right with you?"

Holly looked at him for a moment. "Yes. But I'm watching you."

"All right then," Sam said, feeling relieved in general. The just-friends bit wasn't good, but that was okay, he was good at courting women. _We are playing my game now_, he thought and looked down at Cedes with great affection.

"Don't look at me like that," Cedes said to him and turned to Holly. "We're going to the ten o'clock movie, just as friends. Want to come?"

"Yes. Hunter?" Holly said as Hunter came out of the bar to find her. "We're going to the movies at ten."

"It's _Poetic Justice_," Sam said to Hunter.

"I don't suppose that's literary porn," Hunter said.

"It's Tupac," Sam said.

"Why are we going to watch this movie?" Hunter asked.

"Because it's time to make my move," Sam said, looking down at Cedes.

"Hey," Cedes said.

"Oh, well, hell, then, what are we waiting for?" Hunter said. "Let's go."

* * *

Cedes had started her Saturday by calling her mother to tell her that Sam would, in fact, be dining with them that night.

"We'll see what kind of man he is," Janette said, her tone boding no good for Sam.

"You're going to love him," Cedes said. "He's gorgeous and successful."

Janette sniffed. "Probably the kind who thinks he's an eight and you're a four. Men are shallow and treacherous. Wear something slimming."

"He's a ten, Mother," Cedes said. "And I'm not slim."

After the conversation with her mother that morning, baseball seemed an improvement, at least until she got to the park.

"You're sticking with me," she told Holly. "Marley always wanders off with Ryder, but you are staying so you can jab me if I start to act goofy around Sam."

"There's not that much jabbing in the world," Holly said, but she followed Cedes to the bleachers anyway.

"Cedes," Harry yelled when he saw her, and she stopped to smile at him as he came running up.

"Hey, you," she said as he skidded to a halt in front of her. "How's it going?"

"Good," he said, nodding his head. "Thanks for coming." Then he looked down and said, "Whoa. Cool shoes."

"Thank you," Cedes said as Harry bent closer to see the blue plastic fish that overlapped across the toes of her sandals. "You know, you're a lot like your uncle."

"Harrison, your instincts are right," Sam said from behind them, and Cedes jumped. "Women are more important than baseball, but get your butt back to the outfield anyway." Then she turned and he grinned at her, his face softening, and her heart rate bumped up again. "The sun is making your freckles noticeable when you are not wearing makeup."

"I know." Cedes rubbed the spots across her face self-consciously, trying not to care about the affection in his voice. "It's these Saturday mornings games.

"I like your freckles," Sam said, and Cedes felt her heart bump again.

"Me, too," Harry said from below.

"Thanks," Cedes said, trying to keep a grip. "I just wished that I didn't forget my shades, I keep forgetting—"

Sam took off his cap and put it on her head. "Problem solved." His grin widened. "Very cute. You can play for my team any time."

"Stop that," Cedes said, and tried to adjust the hat so it wouldn't squash her curls. It felt warm from him, and she kept her hand on it a minute longer just to feel it. _You're hopeless,_ she told herself.

"Harry!" somebody called, and Cedes turned and saw Lucy Quinn walking toward them in a fluttery pink dress, smiling beautifully at Harry. "How are you, buddy?"

Harry scowled. "Hi."

"Hi, Lucy Quinn," Cedes said, trying not to hate her, and turned back to Harry. "We're going to go get good seats. Knock 'em dead, kid." She looked past Sam's ear, avoiding eye contact. "Thanks for the hat. I'm sure it makes me look like hell."

"Nah." Sam tapped it on the brim. "It makes you look like a playa. Santana should be here." Cedes smiled at him in spite of herself, warm all over, and then Hunter yelled, "Hey, we're playing baseball here," and Sam dragged Harry onto the field.

"How'd I do?" she said to Holly.

"As well as could be expected under the circumstances," Holly said.

"Do at what?" Lucy Quinn said.

"I'm practicing being cool," Cedes said.

"Oh," Lucy Quinn said. "Well, good job."

Cedes followed Holly and Lucy Quinn over to where Marley was sitting and watched Harry's team get killed in the first three innings, trying not to watch Sam. When he looked up and caught her looking at him, he grinned, and she thought, _Oh, for heaven's sake,_ _Mercedes_, and turned to Holly to distract herself. "You'd think Hunter would be apoplectic by now," Cedes said to Holly.

"No," Holly said. "He just wants them to have a good time. He yells at them so they'll get better, but he doesn't care if they win. He says all their games are practice for the future."

"Really?" Cedes said. "He does have layers."

"Only about three," Holly said. "I was wrong about him being dumb, though, he's actually smart about only the things he cares about. He's a nice guy once he digs his head out of his ass and stops sizing women up as potential sexual conquests based on superficial looks."

"That's all?" Cedes said.

"Yes," Holly said. "That's all. He is not **The One**. I am just using him for sex; he is not worth much for anything else. He is an overgrown boy who is not yet man enough for me or any other woman. Speaking of which, nice ball cap you got there, Stats." She tapped the brim. "Maybe he'll buy you a soda after the game that _boy_friend of yours and I do stress _boy_."

Cedes shook her head. "We're just—"

"It's the fairy tale," Marley said. "He's winning you."

"What?" Lucy Quinn said. "Fairy tale?"

"Yes," Marley said. "Cedes and Sam, they're a fairy tale. She's the girl who doesn't have the life she deserves because she has listened to others for far too long, so her fairy godmother got her a prince to rescue her from herself."

"Fairy godmother?" Cedes said.

"Holly," Marley said. "She picked Sam out for you."

"Wait a minute," Holly said. "I am not accepting responsibility for Samuel Evans."

Cedes started to laugh. "You did pick him out. You sent me over there to meet him. Now, that's funny."

"A fairy tale," Lucy Quinn said, sounding as if she wasn't sure they were serious.

Marley nodded. "Sam gave her the ball cap because it's part of his duty to please that booty and to get the booty he has to woo and keep his lady safe."

"No, he gave her the ball cap because he's courting," Lucy Quinn said, a little sharply. "It's part of the attraction stage."

"Attraction stage," Holly said.

"He is not attracted—" Cedes began.

"There are four stages to mature love," Lucy Quinn said. "Assumption, attraction, infatuation, and attachment."

"Now, see, I would have called the way he looks at her infatuation," Holly said.

"Excuse me?" Cedes said, looking at her best friend, the betrayer.

"It's the fairy tale," Marley said.

"It's the attraction," Lucy Quinn said flatly.

"It's love, a random reaction," Holly said. "Chaos theory."

"Hey," Cedes said, and they looked at her. "It's a kind act by a friend because the sun is so bright. Not everything is a theory."

"The fairy tale is not a theory," Marley said. "Even if you won't believe it's happening to you, it's happening to me." She smiled at them all, too happy to be smug about it.

"So how's Ryder?" Cedes said, more than willing to have somebody else be the topic at hand.

"He is **The One**," Marley said. "He's going to propose in a couple of weeks and I'll say yes. I told my mama to plan the wedding for August."

"He told you he's going to propose?" Lucy Quinn said, and when Marley looked at her, surprised, she said, "I'm writing a book on this. It's none of my business, but I am interested."

"Oh," Marley said. "Well, no, he hasn't told me. I just know." Cedes tried to look supportive, but the silence that settled over them must have reeked of skepticism because Marley turned back to the field and called Ryder's name. When he came trotting over to them, she said, "Honey, are you going to ask me to marry you?"

"Yes," he said. "I didn't want to rush you, so I thought I'd wait till our one-month anniversary. It's only in eleven days."

"Very sensible," Marley said. "Just so you know, I'm going to say yes."

Ryder sighed. "That takes a lot of the worry out of it." He leaned over and kissed her and went back to the field.

"That was either really sweet or hella annoying," Holly said.

"It was sweet," Cedes said, trying to imagine Sam saying any of that. Stop thinking about him. "And annoying."

"I told you," Marley said. "It's the fairy tale. You have to believe."

"Positive thinking," Lucy Quinn said, nodding. "There's good evidence for that. Could I interview you? For my book. Because this is fascinating. You've moved into the infatuation phase very quickly."

"Sure," Marley said. "But it's not infatuation. This is True Love. Like Sam and Cedes."

"Will you stop that?" Cedes said.

"Of course," Lucy Quinn said to Marley with no conviction whatsoever, and they began to talk.

Cedes took a deep breath and turned back to Holly. "Lucy Quinn appears to be nice," she said quietly, hoping for a conversation that didn't have Sam in it.

"She is," Holly said. "But I think she wants Sam back."

Cedes gave up and stared out at the field where Sam was talking to somebody on third base. His face was serious again, and the kid nodded, hanging on his every word. _What a darling_, she thought and then remembered, _No, beast_, but that wasn't working anymore. Well, it had never worked, really.

"Are you going out tonight?" Holly asked.

"Yes, but just as friends," Cedes said. "He's doing me a favor. We're going to my mother's so she can stop worrying about him being a vile seducer."

Holly shook her head, looking doubtful. "I don't think meeting Sam is going to reassure your mother."

"Why not?

"I am not saying that it's meant to be it's meant to be but I am beginning to think Hunter and his chaos theory is correct."

"Hey, I'm not the one who believes in chaos theory, for that matter or fairy tales," Cedes said.

"Or the four-step program to love," Holly said, jerking her head toward Lucy Quinn, who was listening to Marley finish up the theory of fairy tale love.

"Right," Cedes said. "That's all garbage. You don't need a theory, you just have to be practical, figure out what it is you want in a man, and then find one who has those things. Make a plan. Stick to it." Her eyes went to Sam. "Don't get distracted."

Holly rolled her eyes. "Or you could just fall in love."

"Oh, right," Cedes said, looking away from Sam. "That's like saying you could just fall off a building. Because it won't hurt until you land."

Holly drew back. "I just meant—"

"No," Cedes said as several people turned to look at her. "You have to be sensible. It's not silly love songs and sloppy kisses, it's dangerous. People die for it. People die from it. Wars are fought. Empires fall."

"Uh, Cedes..."

"It can ruin your life," Cedes said, shutting her eyes so she wouldn't look for Sam. "Which is why I'm staying friends with Sam, nothing more. I'd have to be insane to think there could be anything permanent. Masochistic. Suicidal. Delusional."

"Uh huh," Holly said.

"So that's my plan," Cedes said. "And I'm sticking to it."

"Right," Holly said sarcastically.

When the game was over, Harry came up and said, "Uncle Sam said we can go to lunch if you'll come," and Cedes said, "Well..." and thought_ Samuel, you nephew-exploiting bastard_. Still, lunch wouldn't kill her. It was okay to have lunch with a friend. And his nephew. Like a chaperone.

"Uh huh," Holly said, even though Cedes hadn't spoken.

* * *

She made him take them to a diner near Lima Heights where she and Harry played a kid-friendly version of Tupac all the way through lunch, a new experience for Harry, who'd been raised on Chopin. Sam didn't seem to mind.

When they dropped her off, Harry said, "I'll see you tomorrow, Cedes," and she said, "Yes, you will. Dinner at Granny's."

Harry looked a little confused, and Sam said, "Harrison, I will pay you fifty bucks if you'll call your grandmother that tomorrow."

"I don't think so," Harry said, and Cedes got out of the car feeling that tomorrow was going to explain a lot about Samuel Evans, assuming he lived through dinner that night with her parents.

"Keep the cap, Mercy," Sam said when she tried to hand it back to him through the window. "You look good in it. I'll pick you up at eight." Then he drove off and left her feeling ridiculously happy, which couldn't be good.

"You're a mess," she told herself, and went, to get ready for dinner with her mother. That evening, Sam picked up Cedes in his ancient Mercedes G Wagon. She was sitting on the bottom step when he got there, dressed in a plain black dress that she'd pulled over her knees. She looked like a cranky nun.

"What are you doing down here?" he said when he got out of the car.

"You have to put up with my parents," she said, standing up. "It didn't seem fair to make you do those steps, too."

"I don't mind climbing as long as you're at the top." Sam looked down at her feet. She was wearing plain black flats, no toes showing at all. "Why the awful shoes?"

"They're not awful," Cedes said. "They're classic. Like your car, which is very nice and yet somehow not what I'd pictured you in."

"Graduation present." Sam opened the door for her. "Never look a gift car in the mouth. Get in, Mercy, we do not want to be late."

When he was in the driver's seat, Cedes said, "For the MBA?"

"What?" Sam said as he started the car.

"The car. A graduation present for getting your Masters in Business Administration? I got a briefcase, so I'm trying to put things into perspective here."

"High school," Sam said and pulled out into the street.

"High school," Cedes said, nodding. "What did they get you for the MBA? A yacht?"

"A place in my dad's firm."

"But—"

"I declined the gift," Sam said. "Speaking of which, is there anything I should bring or know about your family before I get there?"

"You don't have to do any of this," Cedes said.

"Mercedes, I am going. Prep me for your parents, please."

"There's nothing, really, you can bring," Cedes said. "My mother is always polite, and my father is not talkative unless you hit a nerve. Don't hit a nerve."

"Right," Sam said. "Could I have a list of nerves?"

"Insurance fraud, younger men who want his job, music after 1989, and sex with his daughters."

"Sex with his daughters," Sam said.

Cedes nodded. "My father will assume you're trying to debauch me."

"Your father is a keen judge of character," Sam said. "How about your mother?"

"Well, normally, she'd be scoping you out for son-in-law potential. There would be a quiz by dessert."

"Written or oral?"

"Oral."

"Good. Oral I'm good at." The silence stretched out until he said, "I didn't mean that the way it came out."

Cedes stared straight ahead trying not to think of Sam's mouth licking and tasting her as she writhed on his face while he brought her pleasure by being good at oral sex. She did not need wet panties when she was about to be going inside her parents' house. "Perfectly all right. There won't be a quiz. My mother has other things on her mind at the moment."

"Does she have any other issues I should know about?"

"Yes, but they're all about me."

Sam shook his head. "I don't care. Give me that list, too."

"Eating carbs, wearing white cotton underwear, not losing weight, failing to hold onto my ex-boyfriend whom she loved are just a few among the many things about me and my life that ticks her off," Cedes said. "I don't think any of those are going to come up in your conversation with her."

"My mother likes my ex, too," Sam said. "I think it's laziness. She just doesn't want to learn a new name. Who else is going to be there?"

"My sister, Bree. You're safe with her. She's nuts right now because she's getting married in a week, but she's not as bad as my parents but we are similar and you said that I have been awful to you in the past. If things get too awful, you can sit and look at Bree. She's beautiful. Just don't try to engage her in conversation at all."

"Good to know," Sam said. "Mom, Dad, Bree, you, me. Cozy group."

"And Jake," Cedes said, trying to keep her voice from going flat. "My sister's fiance."

"Right. Jake of the faulty memory. How's that going?"

"Something's wrong," Cedes said. "I don't know what it is but he's not helping. The thing is, he's not a bad guy, except for dumping Wet which he had every right to do, and he seems to adores Bree, so I can't figure it out." She looked over at Sam. "See what you think of him."

"Me?" Sam said, surprised.

"You're a good judge of character," Cedes said. "Intuitive. Figure out Jake for me."

"The chances of me figuring out what's wrong over dinner are slim," Sam said as Cedes' cell phone rang. When she pulled it out of her purse, he said, "A plain black cell phone. You lied to me that first night, Mercy."

"Which you knew," Cedes said, and answered the phone. "Hello. What?" She listened for a minute and then said, "Oh, for crying out loud." She listened again and said, "Bree, it's Saturday evening. I don't know where . .. Wait a minute." She turned to Sam. "Jake promised to get the wine for dinner."

"Let me guess, I will be bringing something to the dinner," Sam said.

"You wouldn't have a bottle or two at your apartment, would you?" Cedes said.

"Rory's," Sam said and made a U-turn.

Cedes turned back to the phone. "Sam's going to fix it." There was a note of pride in the way she said it, and Sam grinned. Then she turned off her phone and said, "You are a prince."

"Thank you," Sam said. "Say something bitchy to me, will you? You're confusing me." He stopped and got the wine, and when he was back in the car, Cedes looked at the labels on the bottles.

"These were expensive, weren't they?"

"Not really," Sam said. "About forty bucks each."

Cedes started to laugh. "Serves Jake right, the dumbass."

Ten minutes later, Sam had followed Cedes' directions and parked in front of a fairly large, fairly new house. Cedes said, "You know, you can still get out of this. Drop me off and I'll tell—"

"Nope." Sam opened his car door. "Stay there."

"Stay where?" Cedes said, reaching for her door handle.

Sam came around the car and caught the door as she opened it. "You cannot leap out of cars without assistance." He caught her hand and pulled her to her feet as she got out, and she ended up closer to him than he'd planned, which was fine by him. "It makes me look weak and powerless when you get out without me," he said, watching the breeze ruffle her curls.

"Yeah, weak and powerless," she said. "I bet you get that a lot." She detoured around him as he shut the car door, and he caught sight of someone vanishing from a window. "Well, the good news is, you just made points with my mother. She was scoping you out from the window."

"Great," Sam said, taking her elbow. "Now all we have to do is survive dinner." Cedes' father met them in the hall, a stout medium height man with a paranoid look of a sheepdog whose sheep were plotting against him.

"Dad, this is Samuel Evans," Cedes said. "Sam, this is my father, George Jones."

"Pleased to meet you, Samuel." George's gruff voice was firm as if to belie any indication that he wasn't pleased, but his eyes telegraphed, _What are you up to?_

"Pleased to be here, sir," Sam lied, and Cedes patted him on the back, which was more comforting than he could have imagined.

"You're late," George said to Cedes. "We've already had cocktails."

"Sorry, sir," Sam said, and Cedes said, "No, you're not. It was my fault, Dad, we had to go back for something."

"Well, come in now," George said, and Cedes sighed and went into the dining room, and Sam followed and met Cedes' dragon of a mother.

The house was a showplace, clearly done by a decorator, and Cedes' mother, standing in her perfect living room, matched it: Both were designer creations with no warmth whatsoever. The house at least had some color, but Cedes's mother was short in height like her daughter but wore heels that made her taller than her husband, thin, dark-haired, dressed in black and groomed to within an inch of her life, the exact opposite of Cedes. "This is my mother, Janette," Cedes said, practically chirping.

"Mother, this is Samuel Evans,"

Janette Jones said, "Welcome, Samuel," in a voice that could have flash-frozen fish.

"Did I do something?" Sam whispered when she'd turned to speak to George.

"You frenched me in the park on a picnic table," Cedes whispered back.

"How do they know that?" Sam said.

"Jake ratted us out," Cedes said. "He also mentioned your hit-and-run past."

"And I got him wine," Sam said.

"And here he is," Cedes said. She lifted her voice and said, "Jake! This is Sam Evans." Jake was young and smooth, clearly buffed in the gym until his surface gleamed.

He smiled at Sam and then realized who he was shaking hands with. "Oh," Jake said.

Sam waited for something more, but that was it. "Yep," he said and leaned forward. "The wine is in the front seat of my car."

Jake exhaled in relief. "Thanks, man," he said, clasping Sam's arm. "Be right back," he said in a voice that was a fraction too loud. "Left the wine in the car."

"And this is my sister, Bree," Cedes said, her voice softening, and Sam looked up to see a younger version of the dragon. Bree was slender and lovely, and clearly the princess in the family. She beamed when she saw Cedes, and welcomed Sam with more warmth than everyone else in the room put together, and asked about his baseball team.

"Nice kid," he told Cedes when Bree had gone to find the amnesiac she was marrying.

"Kid?" Cedes said.

"Cute," Sam said. "But she's not you."

"You're not the first to have noticed," Cedes said. "Listen, don't let the 'rents get you down. They're just.. ." Her voice faded away as she tried to think of something to call them.

"Fine," Sam said, and then Janette called Cedes away as Jake showed up with the wine. When Cedes came back a few minutes later, all her curls were pulled back in combs, and they went inside to eat dinner.

"What's with the hair?" Sam said in her ear when they were seated.

"It's not flattering to my round face when it's left loose," Cedes said. "I knew better."

"I liked it," Sam said, and Cedes said, "I did, too," and then dinner started.

"So what is it you do for a living, Samuel?" George asked when the soup had been dispatched with small talk and the prime rib had been served.

"Training seminars," Sam said, keeping a wary eye on Janette, who had been staring at him throughout the soup course. He couldn't call it a frown since her forehead wasn't furrowed, but it was not warm.

"So you're a teacher," George said. "There much money in that?"

"Dad," Cedes said.

"There's enough," Sam said, distracted because Cedes had discreetly begun to pat his back again. He was grateful to her for the support, but it felt way too good to be something he should be enjoying in front of her father.

"What firm are you with?" George said.

"Evans, Clarington, Lynn." Sam smiled at Cedes's mother. "This beef is excellent, Mrs. Jones."

"Thank you." Janette Jones did not look appeased.

"Evans," George said. "So you work for the old man. Not too hard getting that job, huh?"

"Uh, no," Sam said. "I'm the old man. It's my company."

Cedes stopped patting and glared at George. "I wonder what the statistics are on the number of daughters who return home to visit after their guests are harassed by their fathers."

"You inherited it?" George said,

"I started it," Sam said.

"I'm guessing they're low," Cedes said.

"But your old man bankrolled you," George said.

"No, he didn't," Sam said. "He wanted me to go into his business, so I went outside the family for capital."

"For crying out loud, Dad, that's enough," Cedes said, taking her hand away from Sam's back. "Let's talk about something else. I am thinking of getting a pet."

"So it's a start-up," George said. "Thirty-three percent of start-ups fail in the first four years."

"And it will probably be a mule," Cedes said.

"It was a start-up ten years ago," Sam said to George. "It's up."

"It will annoy all my friends," Cedes said. " I'm thinking of calling it George."

"Mercedes," Janette said. "Not your loud voice."

"Bread?" Cedes said, shoving the basket under Sam's nose.

"Yes, thank you." Sam took a roll and handed her the basket back. She took one, too, and her mother spoke again.

"Cedes."

"Right," Cedes said and put the dinner-roll back.

"So you own your own business," George said, skepticism heavy in his voice.

"Yes." Sam frowned down at Cedes. "Why can't you have a roll?"

"I told you, I have this dress I have to fit into," Cedes said. "It's all right. I can eat bread again in July."

"Cedes is Bree's maid of honor next weekend," Janette said. "We don't want her to get too big for the dress."

"I'm already too big for the dress," Cedes said.

"You should come," Bree said to Sam, leaning across the table. She hadn't touched the bread, the butter, or her beef, Sam noticed. Her water glass was getting quite a workout, though. "To the wedding. And the rehearsal dinner. Cedes needs a date."

Before Sam could answer, George said, "Who are some of your clients?," and Janette said, "How long have you and Cedes been dating?," and Cedes tugged on his sleeve. When he looked down at her, she said,

"Do you have a family?"

"Yes," Sam said, trying to sound noncommittal about it.

"Are they this awful?" Cedes said.

" Mercedes," Janette said, warning in her voice.

"Well, they do let me eat bread," Sam said, keeping an eye on Janette. "Other than that, pretty much."

"I beg your pardon?" George said.

"Look, I don't mind you grilling me about what I do for a living," Sam said. "Your daughter's brought me home and that has some significance. And I don't mind your wife asking about my personal life for the same reason. But Cedes is an amazing woman, and so far during this meal, you've either ignored her or hassled her about some dumb dress. For the record, she is not too big for the dress. The dress is too small for her. She's perfect." Sam buttered a roll and passed it over to Cedes. "Eat." Cedes blinked at him and took the roll.

Sam looked past her to her mother. "I've never been married. I've never been engaged. My last relationship ended about two months ago. I met your daughter three weeks ago." He turned back to Cedes's father. "The business is in the black and has been for some time. I can give you references if you'd like to check. Should things between Cedes and me ever grow serious, I can support her."

"Hey, I can support me," Cedes said, still holding her roll.

"I know," Sam said. "Your dad wants to know that I can. Eat." Cedes bit into the roll, and he looked around the table. "Anything else anybody wants to know?"

Bree held up her hand.

"Yes?" Sam said.

"Are you Cedes' date for the wedding?"

Cedes tried to swallow the bite she'd just taken.

"She hasn't asked me." Sam looked down at Cedes. "Want to go to your sister's wedding with me?" Cedes choked on her dinner roll and he pounded her on the back.

"Of course she wants to go with you," Janette said, smiling for the first time. "We'd be delighted to have you. The rehearsal dinner, too."

"Good," Sam said, feeling progress had been made as Cedes gasped for air.

"This wine is excellent," George said to him.

"Thank—uh, thanks to Jake," Sam said. "Knows his wine."

"Uh huh," George said, looking at Jake, who smiled back at him feebly.

Then Cedes smiled up at him and said, "I'm sorry" so softly he almost missed it. He said, "For what? I'm having a great time," and felt better about everything.

After dessert, which only the men ate, Cedes dragged Bree into the hall. "Are you out of your mind," she whispered. "Why in the name of God did you ask that man to the wedding?"

"Why not?" Bree said. "You needed a date. He's darling. I don't see a problem."

"That's because you don't know our history," Cedes said.

"Well, at least you have a date now," Bree said. "I think it was a pretty good idea."

Cedes stabbed her finger at her. "Don't do anything like that again. Ever. Ever ."

"Okay," Bree said. "But you've still got a really hot date." Her really hot date came out in the hall, said a pleasant good-bye to her parents, walked her down the front steps, handed her into his car, got in the driver's side, reached over and pulled the combs out of her hair.

"These are ugly, Mercy," he said and threw them out his car window into the street.

"I know," she said, trying not to feel rescued. "Thank you."

* * *

The next day, Cedes dressed very carefully for her dinner with the Evans, pulling out her plain black dress again, polishing her black flats, and trying to make her hair lie down. Things didn't get better when Janette called.

"Darling, your Samuel is lovely," Janette said.

"Thank you, Mother," Cedes said, bracing herself for whatever was coming next.

"And Daddy checked his financials and he's very solvent," Janette went on.

"He checked on a Saturday night?" Cedes said. "How?"

"You know your father," Janette said in a tone that said she wished she didn't. "And your Samuel seems very taken with you. That was very sweet, the thing with the bread and butter. You won't eat it again, of course, but still. . ."

"A man who will feed you is a good thing," Cedes agreed.

"So don't ruin this one," Janette said. "I was upset about you losing Anthony, but that's all right now. Just don't lose Samuel, too."

"Mother, I don't want him," Cedes lied.

"Of course you want him," Janette said. "You'll have beautiful children."

"I don't want those, either," Cedes said. "New subject. I'm thinking about quitting my job to become a cook."

"Don't be ridiculous, dear," Janette said. "You around food? You'd blow up like a balloon."

"Thank you, Mother," Cedes said. "I'm going to go now."

"Go where?"

"I'm having dinner with Sam's parents."

"That's nice. Who are they?"

"Dwight Jefferson and Mary Lynne Evans. I don't know—"

"You're having dinner with Mary Lynne Evans?'"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Because she gave birth to my date, otherwise, I wouldn't be."

"Cedes," her mother said, her voice dropping in respect. "Mary Lynne Evans is huge in the Urban League."

"I'm so sorry," Cedes said, thinking that was the first time she'd ever heard Janette say "huge" with approval.

"No carbs, darling," Janette said. "And tell me everything when you get home."

"Oh, dear Lord," Cedes said and hung up to go back to her hair problem. When Sam knocked on her door, she was contemplating a headband without much confidence.

"Do you think a headband?" she said to Sam when she opened the door.

"Christ, no," he said, "Look at you, you're in mourning again."

"Don't even try to talk me out of this dress," she said.

He looked down. "At least give me your feet. How about the shoes with the black bows, the ones you wore the first night?"

"Sam," Cedes said.

"It's not a lot to ask," he said, leaning in the doorway grinning at her. "Go change your shoes, Mercy, and then we'll face the dragons together."

She smiled back in spite of herself. "That charm stuff doesn't work on me," she told him and went to change her shoes.


	12. Chapter 10

**Now it's time to meet the dysfunctional Evans family. They are why Sam is the way he is; Quinn was right about that part. She blamed only the mother when it's the entire nuclear family minus Harmony she is an in-law and her spawn the mini Sam: Harry. Creep and Creepier are back and they both may need an intervention. Please forgive all my mistakes which are the only thing I own and thanks for all the love you guys keep pouring out on the story with your time. The most valuable commodity of them all.**

**Chapter Ten**

When they were in the car, she said, "Okay, give me the cheat sheet for your parents."

"There is none," Sam said. "They will be very polite but not warm. We don't have to chill the wine at home, the atmosphere does it for us."

"Oh, good," Cedes said, "this is exactly the time I want to hear jokes." But when they arrived at his parents' home, she realized he wasn't being funny. The house was large, one of the Prairie mansions that always looked to Cedes like ranch houses on steroids; the maid at the paneled door was polite, the paneled hall was cool, and when they went into what Cedes doubted they called the living room, Sam's parents were downright frigid.

"We're so pleased to have you," Mary Lynne Evans said to Cedes, taking her hand. She didn't look pleased; she didn't look anything but stunningly, expensively beautiful, as did her husband, Dwight Jefferson, and her son, Steven Reynolds, possibly the only man on the planet who made Sam look a little plain. Sam was beautiful but his big brother was a work of art and had a face to launch a trillion ships.

"Cedes!" Harry said from behind her, and she turned and saw him urging Harmony into the room.

"Hey, you," she said, bending down to him. "Thanks for the dinner invitation. I was starving."

Harry nodded and then leaned forward and whispered, "I like your shoes. The bows are neat." He nodded at her, grinning maniacally.

"Thank you," Cedes whispered back, and stole a glance at Sam. His face was expressionless, and she realized he hadn't said a word since they'd arrived. _Okay_, she thought. _Welcome to hell_. She did her best to make politely chilly conversation until they were all seated and served with a series of plates beautifully presented with syrup swirls. Then she gave up and just ate.

"What is it that you do, Mercedes?" Dwight Jefferson said when they'd reached the filet-and-piped-potatoes course.

Cedes swallowed and prayed she didn't have anything in her teeth. "I'm an actuary."

"I see," he said, not impressed but not scornful, either. "Who's your employer? "

"Alliance," Cedes said, and went back to her rare beef. The food was both beautiful and excellent, she had to give the Evans credit for that, but it wasn't Rory's. They needed a few comic ethnic photos on the wall to liven things up. Not that they'd ever admitted to being ethnic. She glanced around the table. Irish, she'd bet, and not just because of the name.

"Jones," Sam's father said, and Cedes realized he'd been silent for a while. "George Jones is a vice president there."

"That's my father," Cedes said.

Dwight Jefferson Evans smiled at her. "You went to work for your father's firm."

"Well, it's not as if he owns it," Cedes said, positive there was a land mine somewhere in the conversation. "But he was a help in getting me the job."

"You didn't need any help," Sam said, his voice flat. "You're an actuary. You must have had forty offers."

"There were a lot of offers," Cedes said, wondering what the hell was going on. "But there weren't a lot of great offers. My dad helped."

"That was very wise of you," Mary Lynne Evans said.

Cedes turned to meet her cold eyes and thought, _I don't want you approving of me, lady_.

"To take the help your father offered," Mary Lynne went on. "Very wise."

"Well." Cedes put down her fork. "It came with no strings attached, so there wasn't a downside." Across the table, Steven Reynolds smiled and became even better looking. _Don't like you, either_, Cedes thought. Harmony sat frozen, not in terror so much as in watchfulness, and between them, Harry clutched his fork and plowed his way through his piped potatoes, keeping an eye on everybody.

"And many benefits, no doubt," Dwight Jefferson was saying. "I'm sure your father helped you along the way."

"She made it on her own," Sam said, his voice still flat. "Insurance companies are not sentimental. She holds the record for promotions within her company and nobody's saying it's because of her father. She's smart, she's hard-working, and she's excellent at what she does."

There was something bleak and awful in his voice, out of proportion to the tension in the conversation, and Cedes discreetly put her hand on his back. Even through his suit coat, his muscles were so rigid that it was like patting cement. She felt him tense even tighter for a moment at her touch, and then his shoulders went down a little.

"Of course she is," Dwight Jefferson was saying, but he was looking at his wife, a half smile on his face. "We think it's admirable of her that she followed in her father's footsteps."

"My father's not an actuary," Cedes said.

"Of course not, dear," Mary Lynne said, a little edge to her voice. "We admire you for making the right choice and staying in your father's business." She smiled past Cedes to Sam. "Don't you think so, Sam?"

"I don't think Cedes ever makes a mistake," Sam said. "This filet is excellent."

"Sam didn't go into the family business," Steven Reynolds said, smiling at Cedes, pseudo-friendly, and Cedes thought, _And you are dumb as a rock to be the one who says that out loud._

"Well, for heaven's sake, why would he?" Cedes said brightly. She took her hand away from Sam's back and thought _I'm never going to see these people again so screw 'em all._

"Why would he go into the family business?" Mary Lynne echoed, raising one eyebrow, which annoyed Cedes because she was pretty sure she couldn't do it. "Because it's his legacy."

"No," Cedes said, and across from her Harmony's eyes widened even farther. "It would be completely wrong for him. He's clearly doing what he should be doing." She turned to smile at Sam and found him staring straight ahead, at the space between Harmony and Harry. Okay, he's gone, she thought and looked at Harry. He was still clutching his fork, checking faces. No wonder the kid threw up all the time.

Dwight Jefferson cleared his throat. "Wrong for him to go into a well-respected and established law firm? Nonsense. It's the Evans tradition."

Cedes blinked. "You went into your father's business? I thought you and your partner started the firm." Across the table, Harmony did the impossible and made her owl face even more impassive.

"They did," Steven Reynolds said from across the table, indignation in his voice. "They began the tradition."

"I don't think you can call two generations a tradition," Cedes said, trying to make her voice speculative as if she were considering it. She looked at Harry. "You want to join your father's business, Harry?" Harry blinked at her. "No. I want to be an ichthyologist."

Cedes blinked back. "Fish?"

"Yeah." Harry lifted his chin and grinned.

"Good for you," Cedes said.

"Harrison is a child," Mary Lynne said. "Next week, he'll want to be a fireman." She smiled at Harry, almost with warmth.

"No, next week, I'll want to be an ichthyologist," Harry said and finished his potatoes. _I love you, kid,_ Cedes thought.

"Harrison," Mary Lynne said to him. "Why don't you have your dessert in the kitchen with Shannon?"

"Okay." Harry scooted back his chair. "May I be excused?"

"Yes, dear," Mary Lynne said, and Cedes watched him trot out of the room, thinking, Harry, you lucky dog.

"Now," Mary Lynne said, turning back to the table with her lizard smile. "I apologize for interrupting you, Mercedes. What were you saying?" She looked at Cedes as if to say,_ You have a chance to back down; take it._

Cedes smiled back at her. _Bite me, lady_. "I was saying that if you analyze the situation, you'll see it was always impossible that Sam would go into the firm."

Dwight Jefferson put down his fork.

Cedes picked up her wine glass. "To begin with, he's the younger child. Older children tend to follow in the family footsteps because they're pleasers." She smiled across the table at Steven Reynolds. "That's why they're so often successful." She took a sip of excellent wine, while they all watched her with varying degrees of frigidity. "Also, they tend to get the lion's share of attention and respect, so their success is a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. But younger children learn that they have to be more demanding to get attention, so they become rule breakers."

"I suspect your psychology is less than professional," Dwight Jefferson said, smiling at her with no warmth whatsoever.

"No, it's pretty much a given," Cedes said. "The colloquial evidence is even there. All the way back to myth and legend. After all, it's always the youngest son who goes out to seek his fortune in fairy tales."

"Fairy tales," Steven Reynolds said, chuckling like a fathead, while Harmony continued her imitation of a frozen owl.

Cedes turned back to Dwight Jefferson. "Then consider Sam's personality. His friends tell me that he rarely makes a bet he doesn't win. The knee-jerk reaction to that is that he's a gambler, but he's not. If he were a gambler, he'd lose half the time. Instead, he calculates the odds, and only takes the risks he knows he can capitalize on." She looked across the table at Steven Reynolds. "As the younger son in the family firm, he'd never make it to the top. That's such a bad risk, I doubt he ever considered joining the firm."

"He'd have made partner," Dwight Jefferson said, all pretense of a light conversation gone.

"Third partner, maybe, after he'd followed you and Steven Reynolds around," Cedes said. "Plus there'd be your partner and his children to contend with. Within the family, he's always going to be the baby. He had to get out. And then, of course, there's his dyslexia."

The silence that settled over the table that time was so complete that Cedes was amazed there wasn't hoarfrost on all of them. She picked up her knife and fork and cut into her filet again, wishing she could ask for a Styrofoam box and go home.

"We prefer not to discuss Sam's handicap," Mary Lynne said with finality.

Cedes took her time with the filet, but when she'd swallowed, she said, "Why? It's not a handicap but a learning disability and part of who he is, it helped shape him. It's not shameful. Over ten percent of the population is dyslexic, so it's not rare. And it's a large part of why he started his own firm. Ninety-two percent of dyslexics go into business for themselves. They need to control the environment in which they work because the regular working environment isn't sympathetic to their needs. And they generally do very well because they are generally intelligent, empathetic people." She picked up her water glass. "You have a son who's smart, hardworking, successful, popular, healthy, charming, and extremely pleasant to look at. I'm surprised you're not passing his picture around to all your friends, bragging about him." She turned to smile up at Sam and found him watching her, his face wooden. "I'd brag about him if he were mine and I had a picture."

"We are, of course, quite proud of Samuel," Mary Lynne said, her voice bleak.

"Oh, good," Cedes said, going back to her plate. "He's right about the filet, too. It's fabulous."

"Thank you," Mary Lynne said, and then she turned to Steven Reynolds and asked him about work. Fifteen minutes later, dessert was served; Steven Reynolds, Mary Lynne, and Dwight Jefferson were discussing the firm; Sam was still silent; Harmony had eaten three slivers of carrot and sucked down all her wine, and Cedes had had enough. She put her napkin down by her plate, and said, "You know, I'm really Harry's date, so if you'll excuse me, I'll join him." Then she got up and went out to the hall to find the kitchen. When she got there, Harry was finishing off his ice cream under the watchful eyes of the woman who'd served dinner.

"Hey, fish guy," she said. "Is there any more of that?"

Harry nodded at the woman."She's the one, Shannon."

"Huh," Shannon said, surveying Cedes from head to toe. "What would you like on your ice cream?"

"Chocolate," Cedes said, sitting down across from Harry. "Chocolate is always good." Harry scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon and then sat silently looking at Cedes, as owlish as his mother until Shannon put Cedes's ice cream in front of her. There was a lot of it.

"Thank you," Cedes said, taken aback. "I'm Cedes, by the way." She held out her hand to the maid.

"Shannon," the woman said, shaking it. "Eat it before it melts." Cedes nodded and scooped up a spoonful. The ice cream was heavenly, superfatted and smooth, and the chocolate exquisitely light and bittersweet. She had to hand it to Mary Lynne Evans: The woman provided excellent food.

Shannon leaned back against the sink. "So you talked back to the Snow Queen?"

Cedes thought about pretending she didn't understand and then shrugged. "I disagreed with her."

Shannon nodded. "You won't be back."

"Lord, no," Cedes said.

Harry put down his spoon, alarmed. "Are you still coming to the park?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Although I'm not sure your Uncle Sam is still speaking to me."

"He seems like a nice guy," Shannon said. "Quiet. We don't see him much."

"I can imagine," Cedes said, and then Sam came into the kitchen. "Hi, there," she said, waving her spoon at him. "Turns out your mom has great taste in ice cream, too." Which figured, come to think of it.

Sam nodded, expressionless. "You ready to go?"

Cedes looked at her full bowl of premium sugar and fat, and sighed. "Yes," she said obediently and put her spoon down. If she were Sam, she'd be screaming to get out of here, too.

Sam went out into the hall and Harry said, "Can I have your ice cream?"

"Will you barf?" Cedes said.

Harry shook his head. "Not ice cream."

Cedes pushed the bowl across to him. "Knock yourself out." She stood up. "It was very nice meeting you, Shannon."

"Yeah," Shannon said. "Good luck."

She met Sam in the hall, and he opened the door for her without speaking. They'd almost made it to the steps when Harmony appeared in the doorway. "Well?" she said to Sam.

Sam shook his head at her, and she smiled at Cedes and said, "It was so nice to see you again," sounding as if she meant it. Sam turned and walked down the steps as Harmony slipped away again, and Cedes followed him, fairly sure they were about to fight.

Well, she had no regrets. She slid into the front seat of Sam's car and settled into the leather seat. Okay, she'd miss the car. And the food, although she could still go to Rory's without him. And—

Sam got in the car and slammed the door and then sat there for a moment, and Cedes looked at his rigid profile and thought_, And you. I'm going to miss you_.

"What did Harmony want?" she said, trying to stave off whatever was coming.

Sam turned to her, and when he spoke, his voice was so strained it almost broke. "I am so sorry about that."

"What?" Cedes said, taken aback.

"My family." He closed his eyes, and then said viciously, "They usually behave very well in front of strangers."

"I don't think I was their type," Cedes said, keeping her voice light. "And then I was rude. But the good news is, I got great food and I never have to see them again. Do you know what kind of ice cream that was? Because it was phenomenal, although I'm guessing it wasn't nonfat."

"You don't care?" Sam said.

"That your mother is a witch who doesn't like me, you, or probably anybody else in the entire world and your father is a bastard and your brother is a supercilious moron?" Cedes said. "No. Why should I? They're not my family. My family looks better than ever now by comparison, so I owe you for that. My mother at least likes you now while she only tolerates me. Now about that ice cream—"

He leaned forward and kissed her, hard, and she put her hand on his cheek and kissed him back, falling into that same hot, glittery rush she got every time, so glad to be touching him, to have his hand laced through her curls, to be with him. When he broke the kiss, she stayed close to him, not ready to let him go. "Was that because I insulted your mother?" she said, a little dazed. "Because I have lots of other horrible things to say about her."

Sam grinned, and she relaxed because he looked like Sam again. "Nah, I just like kissing you."

"Oh, good," Cedes said, recovering. "Except, stop that because we're not doing that. I was just relieved because I thought you were never going to want to see me again. I'm positive your family doesn't want to."

Sam put the key in the ignition and started the car. "Oh, some of them do."

"Harry." Cedes leaned back in her seat and tried to think about something else besides kissing him. "That's just because I gave him my ice cream."

Sam slowed the car. "He had yours and his?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "He said he didn't throw up ice cream."

"He lied." Sam stopped the car. "It's sugar in general that makes him sick."

"Do we have to go back?" Cedes said, alarmed.

"Christ, no." Sam pulled out his cell phone. When he'd warned Harmony about the imminent vomiting, he started the car again.

"Great, I poisoned her kid," Cedes said. "Now she hates me, too."

"No. She knows Harry and the cons he pulls for sugar. She likes you."

"She didn't look like it."

"No, she really likes you," Sam said as he pulled out into the street. "She offered me a quarter of a million dollars to marry you."

"What?" Cedes laughed. "I didn't think she had a sense of humor."

"She does, but she wasn't joking. She can afford it. She was a Van Allen and has her own money from her trust funds." Sam picked up speed as they left his parents' street and sighed. "Thank God, we're out of there."

"Wait a minute," Cedes said, not laughing. "She honestly offered you—"

"She's been going to dinner there every Sunday for ten years," Sam said. "That was the first one she enjoyed. When you figure that my parents are in their late fifties and likely to be around for at least another thirty years, she's looking at a minimum of sixteen hundred more miserable Sundays. That's her estimate. Add in holiday dinners, and she says a two hundred and fifty K would come out to about one hundred and fifty dollars a dinner, which is a real bargain in her book." He thought about it. "Actually, that's a bargain in my book, too, although nothing on this earth could get me there every Sunday."

"My Lord," Cedes said.

"Plus Harry's been rapping '_Keep Ya Head Up_' singing the chorus more so than rapping since we went to lunch yesterday. She said the expressions on my parents' faces alone were worth two hundred grand."

There was a smile in his voice now, and Cedes said, "Well, that's a mind-boggler even though Tupac does have that kind of effect on some people."

"It wasn't the only one this afternoon." They drove on for a while and then he said, "How did you know I was dyslexic?"

"Ryder told Marley so I looked it up on the internet. And then you wouldn't write the recipe for chicken marsala down when I asked. You never say no to me, so I knew it had to be something you didn't feel comfortable doing." Cedes rolled her head on the back of her seat to look at him. "Are you upset?"

"No," Sam said. "Is that true, about dyslexics starting their own businesses?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Everything I told them was true. How'd you know about my promotions?"

"Marley told Ryder," Sam said and turned into a parking lot.

Cedes squinted at the storefront. It looked expensive and snotty. "Be right back," he said and went inside. Fifteen minutes later he came back with a glossy shopping bag embossed in gold, which he tossed in her lap as he got in the car.

"What?" she said, catching it. It was heavy, so she peered inside at the square white cartons sealed with gold labels.

"The ice cream my mother serves," he said as he pulled out of the lot. "Eight flavors. I'll send flowers, but you deserved this now."

"Oh." Cedes clutched the bag tighter. He really wasn't mad. Relief swept over her, and she realized just exactly how much she didn't want him out of her life. It was not a good realization.

"Everything okay?" Sam said, and she forced a smile at him.

"Well, no," she said, trying to sound exasperated. "Where's the spoon?" Without taking his eyes from the road, he took a plastic spoon from his suit pocket and handed it to her.

"I'm crazy about you," she said without thinking.

"Good," he said. "I'm crazy about you, too."

"In a friendly kind of way," she said, hastily.

"Right," Sam said, shaking his head.

"Just so you know," Cedes said, and opened the first carton.

* * *

"He calls her Mercy," Lucy Quinn said when Anthony picked up the phone that evening. "He gave her his ball cap."

"Well, if he gives her his class ring, let me know," Anthony said. "Could I have one Sunday in peace?"

"I don't know, Anthony," Lucy Quinn said, her voice dangerous. "Do you want any of them in the future to be with Cedes?"

"Yes," Anthony said. "But she hated lunch, and she won't return my calls. Look, Sam always dumps his girlfriends after a couple of months. It seems to me the smartest thing to do is wait until he dumps her and then comfort her."

"And it doesn't bother you that he's going to be fucking her blind for those two months?" Lucy Quinn said.

"Hey." Anthony sat up. "That's—"

"You have no idea what that man can do to a woman in bed," Lucy Quinn said. "What makes you think you're going to be able to please her once she's slept with him?"

"I do just fine in bed," Anthony said, outraged.

"Sam does more than fine," Lucy Quinn said. "If I were you, I wouldn't wait until she finds out how much more."

"Lucy Quinn, this is distasteful."

"Fine," Lucy Quinn said. "Let him win."

Her voice was like a fingernail down a blackboard. "It's not about winning," Anthony said and thought, _the bastard's going to win._

And he'd lose Cedes. It was all her fault, really. She was the kind of woman who just asked to be taken for granted, and now that Sam Evans was showering attention on her to win a bet, she was flattered. He thought about how grateful Cedes would be if he went back to her and paid attention. She was such a simple woman. Which was why Sam could get to her. Which meant it was his duty to stop Sam. And save her.

"Anthony?" Lucy Quinn said, prompting him. "You do want her back, don't you?"

"Yes," Anthony said.

"Then go over to her apartment and dazzle her," Lucy Quinn said. "Tell her how important she is. Take her a gift, she likes snow globes, take her a snow globe. Give her joy, damn it."

"Snow globe," Anthony said, recalling there had been some on Cedes' mantel.

"And if she resists, you need to leave something there so you can go back and get it and try again the next day," Lucy Quinn said. "Your tie or something."

"Why would I take off my tie?" Anthony said.

There was a short silence, and then Lucy Quinn said, "Just do it, Anthony. I don't have time for remedial seduction lessons."

"All right," Anthony said. "I'll go over after work. I'll surprise her. We'll talk about marriage."

"Talk?" Lucy Quinn said, exasperated. "For once in your life, could you do more than talk?"

"Well, I'm not going to act like a caveman with her," Anthony said.

"Ever tried that?" Lucy Quinn said.

"No, of course not."

"Then how do you know it doesn't work?"

"Well," Anthony said. "Oh, hell, all right. I'll kiss her. She's a good kisser."

"Good to know," Lucy Quinn said. "Don't screw this up, Anthony."

"I won't," Anthony said, but she'd already hung up. "God, you're a witch," he said to the dial tone, and then he hung up, too.

* * *

On Monday morning, Janette called Cedes to find out how dinner at the Evans had gone. "Tell me everything," she said.

"Mother, I'm at work," Cedes said.

"Yes, but your father would never fire you," Janette said. "He'd never betray you ."

"Mom?" Cedes said.

"What was their house like?" Janette said. "Did his mother like you?"

"It was very beautiful," Cedes said, "and his mother hated me."

"Cedes, if she's going to be your mother-in-law—"

"She's not going to be my mother-in-law."

"—you're going to need her. For when you hit the bad times. Not that your grandmother ever helped me in the slightest—"

"When did you ever need help with Daddy?" Cedes said.

"Well, now," Janette said, goaded.

"Well, she's dead now," Cedes said. "She can't help. What's wrong?"

There was a long silence, and then Janette said, very dramatically, "He's having an affair."

"Oh, he is not," Cedes said. "Honestly, Mom, when would he? You know where he is every moment of the day."

"It's those lunches," Janette said darkly.

"He has lunch with Roz," Cedes said. "Roz who adores her husband and would really like not to work through lunch. He is not having an affair with her."

"You're so naive, Cedes," Janette said.

"You're so paranoid, Mother," Cedes said. "What's going on that makes you think he's cheating?"

"It's not the same. We never talk anymore."

"All you ever talk about is clothes and the wedding and my weight," Cedes said. "He's not interested. Start watching sports. You'll be chattering away in no time."

"I should have known you wouldn't understand," Janette said. "You have your Samuel, after all."

"I do not have a Samuel," Cedes said, fishing in her drawer for a paper clip. "I'm not seeing—ouch." She pulled her hand out to see a staple stuck in the end of her finger.

"You don't have time to think about your mother," Janette said.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Cedes said. "Go back to worrying about the wedding and do not do anything dumb like leaving Dad, because there is nothing going on. As God is my witness, the man is innocent."

"The daughters are always the last to know," Janette said and hung up.

"Nuts," Cedes said, and hung up the phone to blot her fingertip on a piece of scrap paper.

The phone rang again, almost right away, and she answered it to hear Bree say, "Hi," in a wavery little voice.

"What's wrong?" Cedes said, blotting more blood on the scrap paper.

"I'm just a little. .. down," Bree said. "Could we do something together?"

"Absolutely," Cedes said. "How about tonight?"

"I can't," Bree said. "I have to go to Jake's parents' house for dinner. How was it at Sam's parents?"

"Very bad," Cedes said. "How about tomorrow night?"

"I can't," Bree said. "Kitty and Rachel are throwing a sex toy shower for me."

"Sorry I'm going to miss that," Cedes lied, trying not to think about Worse with a vibrator in her hand.

"How about Wednesday?" Bree said. "I know you go out with Sweet and Tart that night, but can I come along?"

"Yes," Cedes said, trying not to laugh. "Especially if you promise to call them Sweet and Tart."

"Holly would kill me," Bree said, but her voice sounded lighter.

"Come here first," Cedes said. "And then we'll go out and you can come back and spend the night. It'll be like old times. Except we'll be folding your cake boxes because they have to be assembled, I've just found out."

"Okay," Bree said. "Okay. I feel better. It's just pre-wedding jitters."

"Right," Cedes said. "You haven't talked to Mom recently, have you?"

"Well, yes," Bree said. "I live with her."

"No, I mean talk. Because she just called to tell me Dad's cheating on her."

"Oh," Bree said, sounding taken aback. "No, she hasn't mentioned that."

"Well, good," Cedes said, and reassured Bree that their father was not sleeping with his secretary -"It would mean he'd half to skip lunch, Bree, and do you really see that happening?"-and hung up with a renewed promise that they would have a wonderful Wednesday."

* * *

Then she sat and looked at the phone and waited for it to ring again. She'd told Sam not to call her, that she wanted Monday for herself, but he was not good at taking directions, so maybe . . . By five that evening, it had become clear that the bastard had learned to take directions. Cedes went home and made spaghetti and began the pleasant evening eating her dinner keeping one ear cocked for a knock at the door, just in case. When it came, she felt equal parts exasperated and happy. Okay, Sam wasn't good at listening, that was bad, but she was still glad he was there.

Then she opened the door and he wasn't, it was Anthony, and her feelings simplified down to just exasperated.

"What are you doing here?" she said.

"I need to talk to you." He walked in and stopped dead, staring at the end of her couch. "My God, what is that smell?"

"I am eating spaghetti," Cedes said closing the door behind him. "I am sure you have smelled the scent before." Okay, she had been a little heavy handed with the garlic.

Anthony sat down on the couch, as far away from her dining table as he can get. "I've never smelled you cooking in your place before. It's so tiny and there is nowhere for the smells to go unless you open up a window. I've been thinking about us," he began as he loosened his tie.

"There is no us," Cedes said. "There never was an us. The best thing you ever did for me was to dump me. I'd be grateful but I'm still mad at you for it."

"I know, I know, I deserve it." Anthony pulled the knot out of his tie, looking more undone than Cedes could ever remember seeing him. "It was the dumbest thing I ever did." He patted the couch beside him. "Come here and let me talk to you."

Cedes went over and sat down on the couch. "Make this fast," she told him.

Anthony leaned closer. "I want to marry you, Cedes." Mercedes burst out laughing so hard that tears were coming out her eyes and she couldn't speak all she could do was flail her arms around hitting Anthony in the process.

"Hell," Anthony said, scooting back on the couch. "What was that for?"

"You must be high or drunk or telling me a joke," Cedes said.

"It's not funny," Anthony said."Look, I'm serious." Anthony reached in his coat pocket and handed her a package. "This is how serious I am."

"That's not a ring, is it?" Cedes said with horror sobering up instantly.

"No," Anthony said, so she unwrapped the box. Inside was an expensive, three-inch snow globe with the Eiffel Tower inside.

"The Eiffel Tower?" Cedes said. This guy doesn't know me at all.

"That's where we'll honeymoon," Anthony said, edging closer. "In Paris. We'll have a wonderful life, Cedes. And I don't mind starting a family right away, we can—"

"I don't want kids," Cedes said, peering into the snow globe. "Anthony, this isn't my kind of—"

"Of course you want kids," Anthony said. "You were born to be a mother."

Cedes put the snow globe on the end table and began talking to herself out loud. "There are two men. One calls you a depraved sexy angel and the other calls you a natural born mother. Which one do I pick?"

"Well, you're more than that, of course," Anthony said. "Cedes, I know you're seeing Sam Evans."

"You do?" Cedes said, thinking, y_ou miserable son of a bitch, you're still trying to win that bet._ It was enough to make her sleep with Sam just to get even with Anthony. The thought was much more exciting than it should have been.

"You shouldn't see Sam," Anthony said seriously. "Ever again." When Cedes began to laugh again this time she was so out of control that she knocked the snow globe down and it disintegrated into broken glass and water across her table.

"Oops!" Cedes shoved herself off the couch to get up to clean the mess. "Be careful there's broken glass." She said when Anthony got up his pants had a little glitter and water on them as well.

"You did that on purpose," Anthony said, outraged.

"Yes, Anthony, I purposefully wanted to break the snow globe and spend my time looking for tiny shards of glass everywhere." Cedes fished the base out of the water and glass shards and put it on the table. Then she went to get her wastebasket and began to put the glass pieces in it.

"That is—" Anthony said.

"Yes?" Cedes said as she picked up the biggest piece.

"Never mind," Anthony said. "You don't know what Sam Evans is up to."

"Sure, I do," Cedes said, picking up another piece. "He's trying to get me into bed."

"Well, yes," Anthony said. "But it's more than that."

"I know." Cedes picked up the third and last large piece and then looked at the rest. "Give me that magazine on the table, will you?"

Anthony passed the magazine over and she tore off the cover while he said, "You don't know. He's capable of anything."

"That was the impression I got." Cedes slid the cover under the glass while using the rest of the magazine as a broom. She dumped the glass in the basket and then saw one more large piece, a little beyond her sweeping area. "Look, Anthony, you don't have to worry about me. I am not in love with Sam Ev— ow!" She pulled back her hand as the blood welled up. "What the hell?" She picked up the last piece and dropped it in the basket and then went out to the kitchen to wash off the blood.

"Are you listening to me?" Anthony said.

"No," Cedes said over the running water. "I'm injured. Go away. I don't want to marry you." She turned off the water, wrapped a paper towel around her finger, and went back to get rid of him.

"Cedes," Anthony said, standing up. "You're not taking me seriously."

"Lord, no," Cedes said, opening her front door. "You're a nice man, Anthony. Well, not really. Go—"

"No, Cedes, I'm staying," he said, his voice deep and serious.

Then he grabbed her and kissed her hard.


	13. Chapter 11

**Cedes is a bad mama jama. Let the instrument version of the song play in your head while you read the first part of this chapter, not the lyrics. I came up with the title of this story for the song that I use at the end. I own nothing but my mistakes and this crazy take on J. Crusie's work using RIB characters. That's all I can say before my brain melts from trying to do all of this in one day. I hope you all enjoy it. Creep and Creepier I just can't! You have to read it to believe it. Thanks again for reading and enjoying this version with me.**

**Chapter Eleven**

Anthony was holding Cedes' head in his hands too tightly for her to pull away, so she drew back her hand to slap him across his head, and slap him she did. She put all her force in the palm of her hands slapping the hell out of him causing him to yank away and scream like the little mitch he was.

Cedes wiped her mouth off and said, "Well, that was gross. As I was saying, go find some woman who meets your criteria for a good mate and marry her. I'm accessing my inner bitch all the time now, so you'll never survive here."

"I'm sorry," Anthony said. "I just want you so much."

"Yeah," Cedes said. "Do that again and I'll Mace you and beat the hell out of you then roll you down every step until you hit the ground. Don't ever do that to any woman. Or you may be going to jail for assault or in the hospital for causing a woman to assault you. Now get out and don't ever come back."

"Promise me you won't see Sam Evans again," Anthony said.

"No, Anthony, I will not promise you anything." Cedes pointed to the door. "Get the hell out now or I get a restraining order."

"At least think about it," Anthony said.

"No," Cedes said and pushed him out the door. Cedes got up and went to get a Band-Aid because she cut her hand picking up the broken pieces of the awful Eiffel Tower snowglobe that she had broken earlier.

* * *

Two days had passed and Sam didn't call Tuesday either, and Cedes was congratulating herself that night that she was finally free of him and feeling lousy about it when somebody knocked on her door. She stirred her chicken marsala one more time and went to answer it, picking up her Mace on the way. After forty-eight hours and no phone call, she was hoping it was a mugger so she could release some tension. But when she opened the door, Sam was leaning in the doorway, holding the usual sack from Rory's and another, smaller shopping bag, looking more tired than she'd ever seen him. His shirt collar was open, his tie ends hanging down, his shirtsleeves were rolled up, and he was rumpled and sloppy and the sexiest thing she'd ever seen, and her heart lurched sideways just because she was so glad he was there.

He said, "Hi," and saw the Mace. "You can just say no," he said, and she opened the door wider, and he came in and kissed her on the forehead. She leaned into him because he looked so solid and because she was so glad to see him and then, on an impulse, she stretched up and kissed him gently, a hello-how-are-you kiss that felt like exactly the right thing to do.

When she pulled back, Sam looked stunned.

"What?" she said. "That was a friendly kiss."

He shook his head and closed the door behind him with his shoulder.

"That was... nice. Here." He handed her a small shopping bag. "I'm courting you and that means you get gifts."

Cedes took the bag and felt deflated. "Bad kiss? Did I do it wrong?"

"No." He grinned tiredly at her. "You couldn't possibly do it wrong." Then his smile faded. "That's just the first time."

"Oh, please," Cedes said. "We've been kissing for days."

"I've been kissing you for days," Sam said, tossing his jacket on the armchair as he went to put Rory's bag on the table. "That's the first time you've kissed me. What smells so good?"

"Chicken Marsala," Cedes said. "I think I got it. What do you mean, that's the first time? I..." Her voice trailed off as she thought about it. He was right. He always kissed her.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said as he came back to her. "So—" Cedes dropped the shopping bag and went up on her toes and kissed him again, this time giving it everything she had. The rush made her dizzy, and she grabbed his shirt to steady herself, and he held her, kissing her back until she was hot and trembling.

"That's two," Sam said, breathlessly. "Not that I'm counting."

"There should have been more," Cedes said, trying to get her breath back. "I mean, we're not doing this anymore, but I shouldn't have made you do all the work."

"I didn't mind," Sam said, pulling her closer, and she knew she should pull back but she didn't want to because he felt so deliciously good against her. "Although I'm liking this."

"I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea," Cedes said, putting her forehead against his chest.

"Which would be what?"

She felt him kiss the top of her head again and smiled. "That I wanted, you know, more."

"Right," Sam said. "Just friends. You bet. Kiss me again."

Cedes grinned and lifted her head. "It doesn't count if you tell me to."

"It always counts," Sam said and kissed her, and she let herself fall into him until she lost track of time and everything but the way he felt wrapped around her. Then he came up for air and said, "I may be getting the wrong idea."

"No," Cedes said, backing away. "Don't do that. Forget any of that happened." She held up the Mace can."I have Mace." She picked up the bag she'd dropped and went to sit next to Sam on the couch. "So. I've heard about this," she said, pulling open the bag. "You're going to give me something I didn't even know I needed."

"What do you mean, you heard?" Sam said, but Cedes was pulling out a shoe box and ignored him.

"I have very specific tastes in shoes," she said, shaking her head. "The possibilities for disaster here are huge."

"I live on the edge," Sam said.

Cedes opened the box. Inside were mules with her favorite French heel, but they were covered in white fur. "What the hell?" she said but when she pulled them out, she saw the bunny faces on the furry insteps.

"You got me bunny slippers?" she said, holding them up. The bunnies looked back her, dopey and sweet. "Open-toed bunny slippers? These are incredible. "

"I know," Sam said. "There's something else in there, too."

"Let me guess," Cedes said, reaching in the bag again. "Tupac Shakur." She pulled out the clean Kidpop versions of the _All Eyez on Me_ movie soundtrack with the collector's video which included all the uncut scenes and other extras of _All Eyez on Me_.

"It's what you like and I know my nephew is going to want to hear more, and I decided I could make sure you have the kid versions around when he is around his new favorite person," Sam said.

"Boy, you are good at this," Cedes said, looking back at the bunnies. "I love these shoes."

"Every woman needs bunny slippers," Sam said, taking one of them. "Especially women with toes like yours." He reached down and picked up her foot and stripped her sweat sock off, and Cedes wiggled her suddenly cool, pink-tipped toes at him. "Very hot toes, Mercy," he said, rubbing his thumb along the bottom of her foot.

"Ticklish," Cedes said, trying to pull her foot back, but he slipped the shoe on before she could move, and she closed her eyes and sighed at how good the fur lining felt on her skin. "Oh, lovely," she said and then looked down at her foot again, and wiggled her toes under the bunny's mouth. "These are perfect."

"I know," Sam said, and let go of her foot.

Cedes stripped her other sock off and slid into the other bunny slipper. "You're a genius at this. I'll wait to play the music and movie when you're gone so you don't have to suffer."

"I like Tupac and I really love the soundtrack to the movie, since being around you I have been playing something besides Elvis Costello at my home and job much to Hunter's dismay," Sam assured her and noticed the snow globe that had the Eiffel Tower on it broken on her table. "Where did this snowglobe come from, it doesn't match your theme at all?" He handed her the tower and she dropped it in the wastebasket and went back to looking at her bunnies. "So who was clueless enough to give you a snow globe without people in it?"

"Jake?" When she didn't answer he asked her was it her future brother-in-law.

"No," Cedes said cheerfully as she saw trouble loom. "You know what? I think I made the chicken right this time." She stood up. The slippers felt wonderful. "These fit perfectly."

"Mercedes," Sam said. "You're keeping something from me."

"Many things," Cedes said, and went out to the kitchen, concentrating on the way the slippers tapped on her hardwood floor. "I may never take these shoes off again."

"I am happy you enjoy them but stop trying to change the conversation."

She stirred the chicken one more time, tasted it, and thought, I really think this is it. She smiled to herself and tasted it again to make sure before she called back, "I think you should taste this."

"I will," Sam said from behind her. "First tell me who this belongs to." She turned and saw him holding up Anthony's tie.

"Where'd you get that?" she said.

"It was on your couch," Sam said.

She took it from him and dropped it in the kitchen trash. "It's none of your business who that belongs to."

"I know," Sam said.

"You can't be jealous," Cedes said.

"And yet, much to my own disgust, I am," he said, folding his arms. "All right, I have no business asking."

"This is true," Cedes said.

"So who was it?"

She leaned against the stove and realized she was glad he was jealous._ You're a hot mess_, she told herself.

"Mercy," Sam said.

"My ex-boyfriend. He dropped by and proposed."

"He did?" Sam said calmly, but his jaw tightened.

"Yes, he did," Cedes said, enjoying herself. "He brought the snowglobe because we were going to honeymoon in Paris."

"Thoughtful of him," Sam said, biting off the words.

"Not really." Cedes straightened. "I don't want to honeymoon in Paris."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No," Cedes said, her patience at an end. "I told him I didn't want to get married, and then I kicked him out."

"Uh huh," Sam said.

"That's it," Cedes said. "He's gone."

"No, he's not," Sam said.

"I assure you—"

"He left his tie, Cedes."

"So?"

"So he left it so he could come back for it."

"That's . . ." Cedes thought about it. ". . . entirely possible."

"Give me the tie," Sam said.

"Why?" Cedes said, exasperated.

"So I can messenger it back to the son of a bitch tomorrow," Sam said. "Who is he?"

"Have you lost your only mind?"

Sam closed his eyes. "Yes."

"There we go," Cedes said. "The first step in solving your problem is admitting you have one."

"Don't see him anymore, please," Sam said, making it a request, not an order.

"I won't," Cedes said. "I don't even like him that much. Remember he dumped me."

"Can I return the tie, please?" Sam said, holding out his hand.

Cedes fished it out of the trash. "Here. His name is Anthony Rashad. He runs a soft—" She stopped at the look on Sam's face. "What?"

"Your ex is Anthony Rashad?" Sam said, and Cedes remembered the bet.

"Yes," she said. "Do you know him?"

"Yes," Sam said. "He's —" He stopped and she waited. "He's a client."

"Oh," Cedes said, and thought,_ The bet, he's not going to tell me about the bet. Damn it_.

Sam crumpled up the tie. "I'll send it back to him. How's the chicken?"

"I think it's excellent," Cedes said, feeling depressed.

"It looks great." Sam picked up a spoon from the dish drainer and scooped up some sauce. He tasted it and Cedes waited, caring way too much about what he thought. "Damn, that's good," he said, looking at her with surprise. "I think that's better than Rory's. Did you do something different?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "But that's my secret. You have secrets, I have secrets."

"I don't have secrets," Sam said.

"Yes, you do, but let's get ready to eat dinner," They talked through dinner and the dishes, and Cedes tried not to enjoy it, tried to remember the bet, but it was so comfortable being with him that she kept forgetting. Somehow he'd slipped into her life and under her skin, and she was happy about that even though she knew that was his plan._ I don't have a plan_, she thought, and that was such a good and freeing thought that she gave up and smiled at him and when he left, she kissed him good night without reservation, and he leaned in the doorway and said, "Mercy, about this friends thing," and she pushed him out gently and closed the door to keep from saying, "I hate that, forget being friends, make love to me."

Because that would be bad and the only thing bad she could be called was a bad mama jama.

* * *

At seven Wednesday night, Anthony was in his shirtsleeves, trying to find two shipments that had gone astray and thinking about how to get to Cedes, who'd once brought him a Caesar salad (no croutons) for dinner when he had to work late while they were dating, when his office door banged open and Lucy Quinn stood here in another tailored suit, this one pink.

"Oh good, it's you," he said flatly.

"They're still dating." Lucy Quinn came in and closed the door. "You were supposed to make your move."

"I did," Anthony said. "She said no. And I left the tie but Sam messengered it back to me so that didn't work. But she also said she wasn't going to sleep with him, so I'm thinking if we wait—"

"Well, wait for this. He took her home to meet his mother."

Anthony sat up straighter as the cold hit his spine. "What?"

"He took her home to meet his mother," Lucy Quinn said again. "It took me seven months to get Sam to take me home to his parents. She did it in three weeks. Anthony, I'm losing him."

"His mother," Anthony said and thought t_he bastard_. _He'll do anything to win that bet._ "Fuck ." He looked up, startled that he'd said it out loud.

"Sorry."

"No," Lucy Quinn said, stopping in front of him. "You are not sorry. You are mad."

"Yeah, I am." Anthony thought about Sam Evans and got madder. Somebody should stop guys like him. He stood up. "So what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Fight for her," Lucy Quinn said. "She's your girlfriend. Get her back."

"I tried," Anthony said, losing some steam. "She likes Sam."

"You are the most passive son of a bitch," Lucy Quinn said. "No wonder she never slept with you. You probably never asked her."

"Thank you," Anthony said. "That's great coming from somebody who got turned down after putting out for nine months. Don't see that being aggressive worked for you, sweetheart. Maybe you're the one with the heat problem."

"Listen, you," Lucy Quinn said. "I have a perfect body and I am great in bed."

"You know, I doubt it," Anthony said, coming around his desk. "Don't bother to open your jacket again. I already saw that commercial."

Lucy Quinn gaped at him. "You bastard.'"

"Well, hell, Lucy Quinn, what do you expect? You come in here screaming at me and calling me names because your ex took the woman I love home to meet his mother. If you want to stop it, go get him. Unbutton your jacket at him.'" Anthony stopped and closed his eyes. "Look, I'm tired, I'm miserable, and I haven't had sex in three months. Take your perfect body back to the guy who was having perfect sex with you. I have work to do."

When she didn't say anything, he opened his eyes. She was frowning at him.

"They're not sleeping together," Lucy Quinn said.

"I know," Anthony said. "So nobody's getting any. Great. Go away."

"You can tell by the way they act together," she said, and he stopped. "I was just at The Long Shot. Cedes was there with Sam. I watched them. They haven't done it. You can tell, people touch differently when they've had sex, they relax, they. . ." Lucy Quinn took a step closer. "They haven't done it. We can still get them back. And I know a great aphrodisiac."

"Right," Anthony said. "You unbutton your jacket."

"No," Lucy Quinn said, so close now she was almost touching him. "Pain. If joy doesn't work, try pain. Like jealousy. It's a physiological cue, a very powerful one. They're going to Rory's now, I heard them say so. We're going to go."

Anthony stepped back and bumped into his desk. "Lucy Quinn, I don't—"

"But first," Lucy Quinn said. "We're going to have sex."

Anthony froze.

"It's been three months for me, too," Lucy Quinn said. "So we are going to have incredible, athletic, sweaty sex right here, and then we're going to go to dinner. And Sam will know. People look different when they've just had sex."

Anthony swallowed. "Well, thank you, but I don't think it's going to—" Lucy Quinn unbuttoned her jacket, revealing a shiny pink bra that was so sheer it was probably illegal in several states.

"—accomplish anything beyond making us both feel foolish—"

She dropped her jacket to the floor and unzipped her skirt.

"—after the shallow physical thrill—"

Her skirt slid down her remarkable legs, and Anthony was left looking at the most perfect body he'd ever seen in the flesh. "—subsides," he finished lamely.

She walked up to him. "You're not going to say no to me."

"I guess not," Anthony said and let her drag him to the floor.

* * *

It was odd having Bree with her, Cedes realized when they were in The Long Shot. Like two different worlds colliding. Bree looked around at everything with new eyes, smiled her delight at Santana, laughed at everything Hunter said, watched Sam with approval, and asked where Holly was as if she wanted the complete cast of Cedes' life there.

"Working," Hunter said. "She's decided that she's going to revamp Rory's night shift first and save lunch for later. I haven't seen her since she started."

"We should go to Rory's," Ryder said. "That way you could see Holly."

"I don't want—" Hunter said, but Cedes said, "You know, that's a good idea. I'm hungry and Bree's never been there," and they migrated the two blocks to Rory's.

"These guys are so great," Bree whispered to her. "I didn't know you had such a great group."

"Well, I don't know that I have a group," Cedes said and then realized that Bree was right, that she was as relaxed with Hunter as she was with Sam and that she'd long ago accepted Ryder as the honorary brother-in-law that Marley was about to make him.

Holly met them at the door, in a little black dress that looked like a million dollars but probably cost her ten in a thrift store somewhere. "Welcome to Rory's," she said, winking at Bree. "You're going to love it here."

"I don't know," Sam said, sotto voce from behind Cedes and Bree. "I heard the service was Tart."

Bree elbowed Cedes, and said, "You weren't supposed to tell anybody," and then Sam grinned at her and she laughed.

"Charm Boy," Cedes said.

Myron showed up, impeccably dressed, as Holly led them to the table by the window. "Hello," he said.

"I'm Myron, and I'll be your server tonight."

"Myron?" Sam said.

"Mr. Evans," Myron said, glaring at him.

"Don't let the customers get you down, Myron," Holly said, putting her hand on his arm. "Remember, you're better than they are."

"Yes, Holly," Myron said, adoration oozing from his pores.

"Oh, God," Sam said.

"You have my permission to be rude to Mr. Evans," Holly told Myron.

"Good," Myron said, and slapped Sam on the back of the head with the menu, making Bree laugh again.

"What is this place?" she said, looking around.

"Home," Sam said, and Cedes nodded, seeing her life through Bree's eyes. It was a damn good life but somehow it had gotten tangled up in Sam's. What am I going to do when he leaves? The thought chilled her, that she'd let things get this far, that she was in this much danger, and she stayed silent through most of the dinner, listening to Bree chatter on with everybody else, watching Sam, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up, completely at home and smiling at her. He looked solid sitting there, not like Anthony's fashionable handsomeness or Jake's gym-toned obviousness, but broad and strong and real and infinitely desirable. I could say yes to him before he goes, she thought and felt a wave of heat roll over her, and even though she knew she'd never do it, she let herself have one brief fantasy of falling back with his solid weight on top of her, his hands hot on her again, her arms wrapped around the broad bulk of him, one visceral moment that made her half close her eyes and bite her lip, and when she shook it off, he was watching her, not smiling anymore.

"Come here and tell me what you're thinking, Mercedes," he said, leaning toward her.

"I don't think so, Samuel," she said, regrouping.

"Hello," Hunter said, and the rest of the table looked where he was looking.

Anthony and Lucy Quinn had come in, looking flushed. Myron gestured them to a table like a pro, and Anthony put his hand on Lucy Quinn's lower back as they followed. Lucy Quinn didn't seem to mind.

"Why don't they just wear T-shirts that say, 'We just did it and we want you all to know'?" Hunter said.

"Shhh," Sam said. "Don't ruin this beautiful moment."

Cedes looked at him. "You don't mind?"

"Why would I?" Sam said.

"Well, she ..." Cedes let the word trail off.

"Is history," Sam said.

"Okay," Cedes said, trying very hard not to feel glad about that.

"How about Anthony?" Sam said.

"Not even history," Cedes said. "The man brought me an Eiffel Tower snow globe, for heaven's sake."

"We should send them a nice bottle of wine," Sam said.

"Why?" Hunter said.

"So they'll get drunk and go back to bed with each other and stop stalking us," Sam said. He caught Holly frowning down at him and said, "What now?"

"Nothing," Holly said. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, think about somebody else," Sam said. "Think about Hunter."

"I have Hunter figured out," Holly said. "You, however, are a mystery."

"I'm still a mystery," Hunter said, wounded.

"Want to have sex tonight?" Holly said.

"Yes," Hunter said.

"No mystery," Holly said and turned back to Sam. "Do you have any weaknesses?"

"Cedes," Sam said, smiling at Cedes.

Holly closed her eyes in disgust. "I'm trying to think if I've ever seen you caught off guard."

"Well, there was the time Bentley hit me with the ball," Sam said.

"I know." Holly straightened behind Sam's chair. "Singing. You're not shy but you won't sing. Why is that?"

"Lousy voice," Sam said.

Holly looked at Hunter. "True?"

"Nope," Hunter said. "Quit hassling him."

"You take care of your friends, I'll take care of mine," Holly said to him and turned back to Sam. "So why not?"

"Stage fright," Sam said. "I can't perform in public. Too self-conscious about my mouth and people staring at it."

"You?" Holly said. "I would never have guessed it." She folded her arms. "So what would it take to get you to sing?"

"A gun pointed at my head," Sam said.

"Holly," Cedes said, seeing a light in Holly's eyes that boded no good for anyone. "Why are you pushing this?"

"Here's the deal," Holly said, leaning over Sam's shoulder, her mouth close to his ear. "You sing right now, here, in front of everybody—"

"No," Sam said.

"—and I will never say or do another thing to keep you away from Cedes."

Sam sat very still for a minute, and then he said to Cedes, "Does she keep her deals?"

"Of course she does," Cedes said. "Which doesn't mean—"

Sam looked up at Holly. "What do you want to hear?"

"Oh, I'll let you pick," Holly said, straightening. "That should be interesting all by itself."

"Why are you doing this?" Cedes said to Holly, exasperated.

"Because up until now, he's had it easy," Holly said, still watching Sam. "I want to see if he'll break a sweat for you."

"It hasn't been all that easy," Sam said.

"You don't have to do this," Cedes said to Sam. "I mean it."

"Why?" Sam said. "Men have been singing to women for centuries. It's right up there with giving them jewelry but I think I rather have us sing this song as a duet."

"I would rather you buy me a nice keychain," Cedes said.

He put his hand on the back of her chair and leaned forward. "Pay attention, Mercy, because you'll never hear me do this again and you need to know when to come in."

"Sam we don't have to do this," she said, but then he began to sing "Before I Let Go," his snarky grin in place and she began to sing it with him trading off verses as if they had practiced it.

"That's not Tupac thank God," Hunter moaned, and Ryder shook his head and laughed at the ceiling.

However, Cedes lost her breath because Sam's voice was beautiful and because, after the first verse, his grin faded, and he began to sing it for real. All other sound stopped, and it was just the two of them as he looked into her eyes and it was like he was meaning what he was singing, and she felt dizzy because she meant it, too, whatever else was going on, whatever else was happening between them, this was real. Even if it was just for this moment, and it's just for this moment, it was real, and he loved her, and it was better than anything she could have dreamed of, and she felt her heartache, felt it clench in her chest because she loved him so much she couldn't stand it. _Don't do this to me_, she thought as they sang, don't break my heart, I don't deserve this, please don't, and when he finished, perfectly on key with "Cause I really love you Cedes Ba, Ba, Ba, Ba Ba," the silence around them was deafening. Oh, God, Cedes thought, and looked in his eyes and saw the same surprise there, and regret and confusion, and she thought, _It wasn't him, it's this thing that's haunting us, he didn't mean it_.

Bree said, "Wow," and Holly said, "All right, I am impressed," and Cedes grabbed her purse and walked out of the restaurant.

* * *

_Before I Let Go _by Maze featuring Frankie Beverly (Mercedes sings it in Beyonce's key and Sam in Frankie Beverly's) Singing key: Regular font is Sam, Bold is Mercedes, Italics is both

Whoa, whoa...ho...

You made me happy  
This you can bet  
You stood right beside me, yeah  
And I won't forget

And I really love you  
You should know  
I wanna make sure I'm right, girl  
Before I let go

**Now we've had our good time**  
**That's what they say**  
**We've hurtin' each other**  
**Boy, it's a shame**

**I won't be foolish, no, no**  
**I wanna know**  
**I wanna make sure I'm right, boy, oh**  
**Before I let go, yeah, uh**

_You know I thank the sun rises and shines on you_  
_You know there's nothin', nothin', nothin' I would not do_

_Whoa, no_

_Before I let you go_  
_Oh..._  
_I would never, never, never, never, never, never, never_  
_Never let you go before I go_

**We were so close**  
**I love your charm, ooh**  
**I can understand it, no**  
**Where did we go wrong**

I won't be askin', girl  
I've got to know  
I gotta make sure I'm right  
Before I let go, ha-ha

_I wanna know_  
_I wanna know_  
_Oh...oh...oh...oh...yeah_  
_I can't, I can't let you go, mmm_  
_I can't, I can't let you go_  
_Cause I know_

_Ba ba ba_  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_ (Ha, come on, darlin')  
_Ba ba ba_  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_  
_Ba ba ba_  
(**I wanna know, I wanna know, I wanna know before I let you go, I gotta tell you so**)  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_ (Come on, girl)  
_Ba ba ba_ (**Come on**)  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_ (I can't let you)  
**Ba ba ba** (**Go, go, go, go, go, yeah**)  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_  
_Ba ba ba_ (I** wanna know, know, I wanna know**)  
_Ba ba ba ba ba_  
_Ba ba ba_ (Cause I really love you Cedes)  
Ba ba ba ba ba


	14. Chapter 12

**A/N: Oh well, so much happens in this chapter and it is important to remember all of the characters have layers. Nobody is perfect, all are going to make mistakes, and say and do things that they will later regret or cast them in a negative light. Hunter begins his path to redemption in this chapter and we want to hug Harry by the end of this hot mess. I am still offline typing this but will be online later today, so I may post it. Thanks for all of your reviews and support. Can't check my email, but I will assume someone is enjoying this retelling. Please forgive all mistakes, I own nothing but them.**

**Chapter Twelve**

Cedes let the restaurant door bang behind her and crossed the sidewalk, blind with the need to save herself. She stepped off the curb and a horn blared and somebody yanked her back from the street, and she turned and barged into Sam.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding on to her. "Whatever it was that I did—"

"You're going to hurt me," she said, breathless.

"What?" he said, looking appalled. " No. I'd never—"

"You're going to break my heart," Cedes said, taking a breath like a sob. "I'm going to love you, and you're going to leave, you always do, it's what you do, and I don't think I can get over you, if I ever let go and love you, I think it'll be forever because it's so deep, it already hurts just the little bit I let myself—"

"Cedes, I'd never hurt you," Sam said.

"Not on purpose," Cedes said. "But you have the right to leave. You've never promised me you'd stay. That's the way it always is. You're wonderful, you know us, and we love you, and you leave. I can't do that. I could tell myself that Anthony was an idiot who didn't know me, but you know me."

"Cedes, wait," Sam said, trying to put his arms around her.

"No," Cedes said, slipping away. "Nobody in my life has ever known me the way you do. Nobody in my life has ever made me feel as good as you do. You know me, you know everything about me, and when you leave me, you're going to be leaving the real me, the me nobody else has ever seen, that's who you're going to be rejecting."

"What makes you so sure I'm going to leave you?" Sam said, his voice sharp.

"Because that's what you do. You always leave. Are you going to promise me right now that you'll stay forever?"

"I've known you three weeks," Sam said. "That'd be a little impulsive, don't you think?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "So why the full court press? Why the perfect shoes and the perfect song and ..." She shook her head, helpless. "I told you we should start as friends, I told you —"

"You want more than friendship," Sam said flatly. "That's the dumbest line you ever pulled on me."

"Look, I'm not ready for you," Cedes said. "I'm not prepared. I don't have any defenses when you're around. I make these plans and I mean it, I really do, and then I kiss you because I'm crazy about you which would be fine if I didn't fall in love with you but you are just standing there, and you know it, you know you've got me." She stopped because she was sounding hysterical.

"All right," Sam said, setting his jaw. "Maybe we—"

"I need to go home," Cedes said.

"All right," Sam said again. "We can—"

"No," Cedes said. "Bree will be out to find me in a minute and she'll walk me. We'll walk each other."

"Cedes," Sam said.

"I just wasn't expecting that song," Cedes said. "Not the way you sang it."

"Neither was I," Sam said grimly.

"I know," Cedes said. "I could see it in your eyes. You didn't mean it."

"Of course I meant it," Sam snapped, as Bree came out into the street. "I just didn't know I meant it until I sang it."

"Well, that's the thing about music," Cedes said, finally losing her temper. "It makes you honest. There are no damn secrets—"

"What secrets?" Sam said.

"—and there aren't any damn lies."

Cedes turned away and started off down the street, making her heels click on the pavement like a backbeat.

"You know, all I wanted was a little peace and quiet," Sam yelled after her. "But no, I had to get you."

Bree hurried behind her to catch up.

"Why are you upset?" Bree said when she was beside her. She looked back over her shoulder at Sam." That was the most romantic thing I've ever heard."

"I know," Cedes said and walked faster.

"What's wrong?" Bree said.

Cedes stopped. "I'll tell you if you tell me what's wrong with you and Jake." Bree bit her lip. "You first."

"The first night Sam picked me up?" Cedes said.

Bree nodded.

"He did it because Anthony bet him ten bucks he couldn't get me into bed in a month," Cedes said.

"No, he didn't," Bree said, positive. "He wouldn't do that."

"I heard him, Bree," Cedes said. "He did it. And I know there's more there now, but I've only known him three weeks, and I'm already lost whenever he's around, and it's just too big a gamble. He's just... he leaves women all the time. Jake was right about that. I don't want to be in a place where I'll die if he leaves me because he's going to leave me." She felt tears start and blinked them back. "And then the son of a bitch sings to me like that, and I just... He's just too ..."

"Dangerous," Bree said. "That's why I picked Jake. I knew he'd never be dangerous."

"What happened?" Cedes said.

"I am not the same person that I used to be. I used to think that being like mom was the best thing ever. I even allowed myself to have best friends just as toxic as I was. But I don't know what is happening with me lately and it is all because of Jake. He is like a new person, and I have become a new person cognizant of others' feelings because the first time I feel awful and I don't want to make others feel as wretched as I am feeling. I don't think he wants to get married anymore," Bree said, and Cedes heard the tears in her voice. "I asked him, I told him if he wasn't ready we could postpone it, but he keeps saying he's ready, he wants to, and I think it's just because he can't stand disappointing everybody but he's—"

"What are you guys doing?" Hunter said, coming up out of the dark and scaring them both into shrieks."Standing around waiting to get mugged?"

"And now our wait is over?" Cedes said, trying to get her breath back.

"Sam sent me," Hunter said. "He doesn't like you walking home alone. So you get me."

"You don't have to," Cedes said.

"Are you kidding? I'm with two hot women in the dark," Hunter said. "By the time I'm finished retelling this in my head, it's going to be phenomenal."

"Is he joking?" Bree said to Cedes.

"I don't think so," Cedes said. "Could you picture me about twenty pounds lighter in this fantasy?"

"No," Hunter said. "I'm picturing you just the way you are, babe. Don't tell Sam or he'll break my teeth."

"Your teeth are safe," Cedes said and began to walk again.

"So what would we be doing in this fantasy?" Bree said to Hunter as they fell into step beside Cedes.

"Well, first we'd read a good book because I know that classy women like you go for guys who read," Hunter said.

Cedes took his arm. "Thank you for walking us home."

"Anything for you, babe," Hunter said, patting her hand, and then he went on with his fantasy, and Cedes held on to him and tried not to think about what she was walking away from.

* * *

Back in the restaurant, Anthony looked at Lucy Quinn triumphantly and said, "We did that."

"No," Lucy Quinn said, her face white. "That wasn't us."

"Cedes was jealous," Anthony said, feeling better than he had in weeks. "And then Sam made a fool of himself making her sing that stupid song with him and he embarrassed her. You were right about us..." He waved his hand and added silently,. . . _having the best sex in the history of the world. God, I'm good_.

"I wish that were true," Lucy Quinn said, still staring at the door.

"You know they're out there fighting," Anthony said. "Why aren't you happy?"

"There's a certain kind of fight that is ... a relationship adjustment," Lucy Quinn said, her voice dull. "You fight, and then reconcile and move closer together. And then fight again, and reconcile. Each time there's a compromise. Each time you grow closer."

"Fighting is good?" Anthony said. "That's nonsense,"

"What's the best kind of sex there is, Anthony?" Lucy Quinn said. "Makeup sex. It's because you've come back even closer. If it's the right kind of fight. You're going to have to move fast if she truly is upset with him."

"I'll call her tomorrow," Anthony promised."She's emotional right now. Better to let her calm down."

Lucy Quinn looked back at the door. "All right. Be careful."

"Stop it," Anthony said, covering her hand with his. "We won."

Lucy Quinn shook her head. "Nobody won tonight."

* * *

Later that night, after Cedes and Bree had folded two hundred cake boxes and talked about the wedding but not Jake or Sam, Bree went to bed, and Cedes sat alone on the couch and tried to figure out where she'd gone wrong. Maybe if she hadn't said yes to that picnic in the park, if she hadn't kissed him back, if he hadn't kissed her at all, if she hadn't met Harry. Definitely, before she met Harry. Maybe if she hadn't thought she was so damn smart that she could play Anthony and Sam in the beginning. Maybe if she'd had enough sense not to cross the damn bar in the first place, if she'd looked at him and known nothing good could come of him and had never overheard that damn bet. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where she'd moved past reckless and into insanity, but she kept thinking if she could just figure out where she'd gone wrong, she'd understand what happened, and then she'd be done with it—

Somebody knocked on the door, and when Cedes opened it, Marley was standing there in her chenille robe holding a teapot. "I made cocoa," she said, and Cedes felt the tears start. "Oh, baby," Marley said and came in, putting her arm around Cedes, balancing the cocoa pot in her other hand. "Come on. We just need to talk about it."

"I thought I was so smart," Cedes said, fighting to keep her voice steady. She took a shuddery breath. "I kept thinking I had it all under control."

"I thought you did pretty well," Marley said, putting the cocoa pot down on the sewing machine table. She took a cup out of each pocket, and Cedes laughed at her through her tears.

"Where's Ryder?" Cedes said. "I don't—"

"He's asleep downstairs," Marley said, picking up the pot. "He's worried about you, but it gets to be midnight and he clonks right out for a solid eight hours."

Cedes laughed again and then sniffed. "If I'd had any brains, I'd have grabbed Ryder that first night."

"Ryder would bore you to tears," Marley said, handing her a filled cup. "Just like I'd have shoved Sam under a bus by now."

"You would have?" Cedes sniffed again.

"Oh, please, that master of the universe act?" Marley said. "That's one scared man you've got there. I don't have the time for that. I want kids, I don't want to marry one."

"He's a good guy, Marl." Cedes sipped her cocoa and began to feel better.

"I know," Marley said. "And someday he'll grow up and be a good man. In the meantime, he broke your heart so I'm mad at him."

"No, he didn't," Cedes said. "He tried not to be with me."

"No, he didn't." Marley sat down next to her on the couch with her own cup. "He had every opportunity in the world to get away from you and he passed up every one of them to be with you."

"That's because he couldn't charm me," Cedes said. "It wasn't—"

"Oh, stop being such a baby," Marley said, and Cedes jerked her head up. "Well, listen to yourself. You're miserable, but it's not his fault and it's not your fault. Well, screw that."

"Marley," Cedes said, scandalized.

"What do you want, Cedes?" Marley said. "If life were a fairy tale if there truly was a happy ending, what would you want?"

"I'd want Sam," Cedes said, feeling ashamed even as she said it. "I know that's—"

"Don't," Marley said, holding up her hand. "Why do you want him?"

"Oh, because he was fun" Cedes said, smiling as she blinked the tears away because she was so shallow. "He was so much fun, Marley. And he made me feel wonderful. I was never fat when I was with Sam."

"You're never fat when you're with Holly and me," Marley said.

"I know," Cedes said. "He was almost like you except I couldn't trust him and he really turned me on."

"Maybe that's why he turned you on," Marley said. "Somebody you couldn't handle."

"Yeah." Cedes let her head drop back against the couch. "He was exciting. I never knew what was coming next. And neither did he. We fed off each other. What dummies we were."

"I wouldn't rush to use the past tense," Marley said. "So back to the fairy tale. Tell me about your happily ever after."

"I don't have one," Cedes said. "Which is why I'll never get one."

"Mine," Marley said, "is that I marry Ryder, and we have four kids. We live in a nice house in one of the suburbs with good schools, but not one where everybody wears plaid."

"Makes sense," Cedes said and sipped her cocoa again.

"I'm a stay-at-home mom," Marley said, "but I do keep a few clients, my favorite clients, and I watch their portfolios like a hawk so I don't lose my edge. And word gets out, and as the kids get older, I add to my client list because there are so many people who are dying to get me."

"That's not a fairy tale," Cedes said, putting her cocoa cup down. "That can all happen."

"And our house," Marley said as if she hadn't heard, "becomes the place everybody comes home to, for the holidays and everybody's birthdays, everybody comes to us. And we have these big dinners and everybody sits around the table and we're family by choice. And you and Holly and Sam and Hunter are all godparents to our kids, and every time there's a big school thing, you all come out and cheer our kids on—"

"I'll be there," Cedes said, trying not to cry.

"—and none of us will ever be alone because we'll have each other," Marley said. "You're going to like my grandchildren, Cedes. We're going to take them shoe shopping."

"Oh, Marley," Cedes said and put her head down on the couch cushion and howled, while Marley stroked her hair and drank her chocolate.

When Cedes had subsided to a few gasping, shuddering sobs, Marley said calmly, "Now you."

"I can't" Cedes said.

"Well, you're gonna," Marley said. "It starts with Sam, right?"

"Why?" Cedes sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Why does it always have to start with some guy?"

"Because it's a fairy tale," Marley said. "It all starts with the prince. Or if you're Santana, with the princess, but still. It starts with the big risk. You're all alone sitting on a tuffet, on in your case, an Aeron, and this guy rides up and there it is, your whole future right there before you—"

"What if he's the wrong one?" Cedes said. "Accepting for the moment, which I don't, that the whole thing starts with the prince, how do you tell the prince from—"

"The beast?" Marley said. "Honey, they're all beasts."

"Ryder isn't," Cedes said.

"Oh, please," Marley said. "He's down there snoring like a bear now," and Cedes laughed in spite of her tears. "You really think Sam's a mistake?"

Cedes swallowed. "Well, logically—"

"Do not make me dump my cocoa on you," Marley said.

"I don't have anything else to go on," Cedes said. "How am I supposed to know?"

"Tell me your fairy tale," Marley said. "It's just between you and me, nobody else will ever know. If you could have anything you wanted, no explanations, no logic, just anything you—"

"Sam," Cedes said. "I know that's stup—"

"Stop it," Marley said. "God, you can't even dream without qualifiers. Tell me your fairy tale."

Cedes felt the tears start again, and admitted: "It's Sam. And he loves me, so much that he can't stand it, as much as I love him. And, uh," she gulped back tears, "we, uh, we find this great house, here in the city, maybe on this street, one of the old bungalows like the one my grandma used to live in. I'd like that. And maybe a dog, because I like dogs."

Marley nodded, and Cedes sniffed again.

"And I keep working because I like my work, and so does Sam because he loves what he does." She sighed. "And sometimes he calls me up and says, 'Mercy, I've been thinking about you, meet me at home in twenty minutes' and I do and we make love and it's wonderful, right in the middle of the day..." She stopped to sniff and Marley nodded.

"And sometimes we go to Rory's, we meet all you guys at Rory's, like every Wednesday, we all meet, and we laugh and catch up on what's happening, and when you and Ryder have your kids, Rory adds more tables, and he and his wife and kids eat, too, and Myron serves us, and sometimes we go out to your house ..."

Marley smiled and nodded.

".. . and the guys watch the game and hoot and moan, and you and I and Holly and Rory's wife sit out in the kitchen and eat chocolate and talk about all the things we've done and they've done and laugh. . . ."

Cedes took another deep breath and realized she was still crying.

"And then Sam and I go home," she said, her voice breaking, "and it's just the two of us, and we laugh some more and hold each other and eat and make love and watch dumb movies and just... be with each other. We just feel good because we're with each other." She wiped her eyes again. "That's all I'd need. The two of us, talking and cooking and laughing. It's so simple."

She took a deep shuddering breath and met Marley's eyes. "I can have that, can't I?"

"Yes," Marley said.

"But only if Sam is who I need him to be," Cedes said.

Marley nodded.

"So I just have to trust that he's who I think he is and not who he thinks he is," Cedes said.

"Big gamble," Marley said.

"Do you ever wonder what happened after the happily ever after?" Cedes said. "After the wedding was over and the townspeople went home, and they finished opening all the stuff that was monogrammed with a gold crown? Because the story's over then. All the questing and the courting and the trauma. From then on it's just sitting around the castle, polishing all the toasters they got for wedding gifts."

"That would pretty much depend on the prince," Marley said. "I can see Anthony polishing a lot of toasters."

Cedes laughed in spite of herself.

"But Hunter would hot wire them all together and calibrate them so they'd shoot toast at varying intervals," Marley said and Cedes laughed harder.

"And Sam would bet on it," Cedes said, smiling and crying at the same time now, "but only after he'd seen Hunter shoot the toasters a thousand times and calculated the odds."

"And Ryder would put out stakes and yellow tape so that nobody got hit by flying bread," Marley said with affection.

"And Holly would figure out how to make the whole thing pay," Cedes said. "And you'd make sure Hunter bought the bread at cost and invested the profits wisely."

"And you'd look at the whole thing and gauge the risk and tell us what we'd missed," Marley said.

"You know this toaster thing might be worth looking into," Cedes said. "Hunter's nuts, but his ideas are always good."

Marley nodded.

Cedes bit her lip and swallowed more tears. "I want the fairy tale."

"Okay," Marley said. "Now all you have to do is figure out how."

"Yeah," Cedes said. "I can do that. I just have to think it out." She looked at Marley. "Are you going to dump cocoa on me?"

"No," Marley said. "The only illogical thing you have to do is believe. After that, you need brains."

"Oh, good," Cedes said. "Brains, I got. Leap of faith, taken. Plan, still in the works."

Marley nodded again. "Can you sleep now?"

"Uh huh," Cedes said, tearing up again. "Why can't I stop crying?"

"When was the last time you cried?" Marley said.

"I can't remember," Cedes said.

"When was the last time you cared enough to cry?" Marley said.

"I can't remember that, either," Cedes said, appalled.

"So you've got some catching up to do," Marley said, standing up. "I have to go downstairs and sleep with a bear."

Cedes gave her a watery grin. "Do not expect me to feel sorry for you because you've got Ryder."

"I don't," Marley said airily. "I expect you to envy me beyond measure."

"I do," Cedes said, thinking of the man she'd left enraged in the moonlight. "But I want Sam." Sam didn't call, and that was all right, Cedes told herself, because she'd see him at the rehearsal dinner since he hadn't called to cancel, plus she didn't have time to think about him with the wedding only four days away, especially since she found herself fielding a dozen calls a day from her increasingly frantic sister, and anyway she was better off without him as a distraction.

* * *

She missed him.

Sunday, she kept telling herself, on Sunday this will all be over, Bree will be married, and I can fix my own life then. The only part she wasn't sure about was the "Bree will be married," but since Bree was insistent that her romance was a fairy tale, there wasn't much Cedes could do besides hold her hand, make supportive noises, and listen. So she propped Bree up, went to the If Dinner on Thursday night and brought the rest of the hand-packed quarts of ice cream that Sam had given her, told Holly there was no need to apologize for making Sam sing since their fight had been inevitable, and tried to figure out a way to make things right without actually talking to him or seeing him.

But on Saturday morning, she had to go to the baseball game for Harry, so she put on her newest sandals—clear plastic mules with French heels and cherries on the toes—and got to the park a couple of minutes after the game started. She found a seat to one side, trying to stay inconspicuous and wave to Harry at the same time, but Harmony saw her and motioned her up. Cedes smiled at her and then realized that the man sitting next to her wasn't just a miscellaneous father, he was Steven Reynolds. Lucy Quinn was on Harmony's other side, wedged in next to another parent, which meant Cedes was going to be stuck sitting beside Steven Reynolds. This has to be payback for something, she thought, and climbed to the top and sat down.

"So how are we doing?" she asked him.

"These kids can't play," Steven Reynolds said, shaking his head. "No discipline."

"Well, you know, they're eight," Cedes said.

"Discipline starts young," Steven Reynolds said, looking at her with contempt, and Cedes thought, _There goes our chance at bonding_.

Down on the field, Bentley hobbled a catch and the ball rolled over to Harry, who picked it up and threw it in the general direction of a base he thought might be appropriate.

"Oh, God, Harry," Steven Reynolds said loudly.

Cedes saw Sam off to one side of the field and felt her stomach lurch. Ridiculous, she told herself and swallowed hard. He spread his arms out at Harry as if to say, _What?_ and Harry shrugged and crouched down again. Sam shook his head but Cedes could tell from the set of his shoulders that he wasn't mad. When he turned around he was grinning, and then he caught sight of her and his grin vanished, and she felt the rejection in the pit of her stomach.

Oh, ouch, she thought and looked away to the dugout where Hunter was eating a hot dog and shaking his head, and Holly was sitting next to him with her chin on her hand. Down at the bottom of the bleachers, Marley was keeping some kind of tally for Ryder who would use it to explain to the kids later the importance of something or other._ Lucky kids_, she thought and wished she were down there with Marley, or with Holly, or better yet, shoe shopping somewhere. Anywhere but here, looking at what she couldn't have. Or didn't have the guts to go after. Same thing, really.

Throughout the rest of the game, Steven Reynolds continued to express his disgust at the general ineptness of the team, winning no friends among the parents in the bleachers and making an already jittery Cedes long to hit him with something. Harmony grew more and more owl-like, and Cedes wondered why she put up with him. She'd have left his ass a long time ago.

Down on the field, Harry came up to bat. He looked up at them and Cedes waved to him, smiling. He pounded his bat on the ground a couple of times and then put it on his shoulder, dead serious. And when the pitch came, he missed it by a mile.

"Come on, Harry," Steven Reynolds yelled. "You can do better than that. You're not trying."

_Shut up, Steven Reynolds_, Cedes thought.

Down on the field, Harry's shoulders hunched a little, and up in the bleachers, Harmony grew even stiller. Harry fanned the next one, too, and Steven Reynolds yelled, "Concentrate, Harrison! You can't swing at anything like a dummy. Think," and Cedes saw Sam look up at his brother, his face set.

_Might want to ease back on that, Steven Reynolds,_ Cedes thought, and then Harry stiffened up and swung at a pitch that was so bad it didn't even cross the plate, and Steven Reynolds stood up and yelled, "Harry, that was stupid, damn it, can't you do anything right?," and Harry froze, his little shoulders rigid, and Sam left the field, coming straight for his brother, murder in his eyes.

"No, no," Cedes said, panicking as Sam hit the bleachers. She stood up and stepped in front of Steven Reynolds and hit him hard on the arm with her fist.

"Hey!" Steven Reynolds said, grabbing his arm.

"You miserable excuse for a parent," she said to him under her breath. "You do not humiliate your kid like that." She raised her voice and yelled, "Harry is really smart, he's always smart," and then she whispered, "But you are the dumbest son of a bitch I have ever seen in my life."

"I beg your pardon," Steven Reynolds said, outraged.

"It's not my pardon you need, you miserable butthead," Cedes whispered, leaning closer. "It's your kid's, the one you just humiliated in front of all his friends, and if you think that made you look good to anybody here, your head really is up, way up inside your butt."

"You're out of line," Steven Reynolds said, but he looked wary now, darting a glance at the other parents, who were clearly not amused. He shook his head, trying for bluster. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Well, for starters, she's the woman who just saved your ass," Sam said from behind her. "Because I was going to throw it off the bleachers until she got in my way."

"You," Steven Reynolds said, looking past Cedes. "Like you could do anything about it. You can't even coach these kids—"

"Oh, give it up," Cedes said. "You know you screwed up, and the best you can do is blame your brother?"

"Listen," Steven Reynolds said, raising a finger. "You are not—"

"You know, Steven Reynolds," Sam said. "When you get home, you're going to figure out that you just gave your kid the same kind of flashback you and I have been having all our lives. And while you are a butthead, you're not a mean butthead, so that should give you some good nightmares about your parenting skills. In the meantime, you're picking a fight with somebody who takes no prisoners. I'd back away slowly if I were you."

"We're going home," Harmony said.

"I don't see why—" Steven Reynolds began and then Harmony looked at him, her blue eyes steely cold.

"We," she said, "are going home where we will discuss this. Cedes, will you and Sam see that Harry gets home safely?"

"Yes," Sam said from behind her, and Cedes nodded, shaking now that the first adrenalin rush had passed. She stepped sideways, back to her own seat, feeling incredibly rash, not to mention rude, and when she turned and sat down, Sam had already started back down the bleachers, Steven Reynolds and Harmony following him.

Out on the field, Harry had his back to them, but Hunter was talking to him, so that was all right. Of course, Hunter was probably telling him that his father was a jerk, but as far as Cedes was concerned, that was all right, too.

She glanced over at Lucy Quinn, who looked thoughtful. "Hi," Cedes said, taking a deep breath. "Enjoy the show?"

"I wouldn't have done it," Lucy Quinn said, "but good for you anyway. You have more guts than I have."

"It wasn't guts," Cedes said. "I probably overreacted."

"No," Lucy Quinn said. "Sam overreacted, but he couldn't help it. Steven Reynolds played that family script and it makes Sam insane. He can't stand being called stupid."

"They get that a lot when they were kids?" Cedes said.

"I think they both had lousier childhoods than we can imagine," Lucy Quinn said. "That doesn't mean you get to hit your brother in front of your nephew."

"He probably wouldn't have," Cedes said.

"I don't know," Lucy Quinn said. "But now you're the bad guy for the family, not him. So you did him a favor there."

"I was already the bad guy," Cedes said. "His parents hated me."

"I don't think they like anybody much," Lucy Quinn said. "They're very self-absorbed people. Not cruel. They just don't pay attention."

"So," Cedes said. "You're the psychologist, right? What do we do for Harry?"

"Sam will take care of it," Lucy Quinn said, nodding down at the field, where Harry and Sam were now sitting in the dugout. She tilted her head at Cedes. "It was doubly bad because you were here, you know. Harry has such a crush on you and to be embarrassed like that." She shook her head and sighed. "You're right. Steven Reynolds is a butthead."

"Is that the clinical term?" Cedes said.

"In Steven Reynolds' case, yes," Lucy Quinn said.

* * *

Down in the dugout, Hunter sat down next to Holly and said, "You know, I used to think that if I was ever in a bar fight, I'd want you backing me up, but I think Cedes just moved ahead of you in the ranking."

"I wouldn't cross her," Holly said. "That man is a complete loss."

"Yeah," Hunter said, his eyes on the field. "But Harry'll be okay. He has Sam and Harmony and Cedes on his side. I'd take that team any day. Christ, look at that." He raised his voice. "Hey, Soames, look where you're throwing the ball."

He shook his head but kept watching Soames anyway, ready to help. _That was Hunter all over_, Holly thought. He acted like a big womanizing lug but if anybody needed him, he was there. She was really going to miss him.

"Hunter," she said as he bit into his hot dog, waiting until he was eating on the theory that it would soften the blow. "We are not going to work out."

"What was your first clue?" Hunter said around his hot dog, his eyes still on the field.

Holly let out her breath in relief. "It's not that you're not a great guy—"

"I know." Hunter swallowed and bit into his lunch again. Out on the field, a kid bobbled a catch, and he closed his eyes. "Jesus."

"We just got caught up in that threesome thing," Holly said, and Hunter stopped chewing and looked at her.

"I mean, the three of us, the three of you. You know."

"Right." Hunter resumed chewing and watching the field.

"Marley and Ryder," Holly said, "that's a little spooky, but Marley doesn't make mistakes."

Hunter swallowed. "Neither does Ryder. They'll be okay."

Holly nodded. "And Cedes and Sam. . . well, I don't know, but he's not taking her for a ride, so I'm butting out of that one."

"Good." Hunter took another bite, squinting at the field.

"But you and I are toast," Holly finished.

"Yep." Hunter shook his head at the field. "That kid has no arm."

"I'm glad to see you're taking this so well," Holly said, annoyed.

Hunter shrugged. "I like you, but you're always charging someplace, creating a disturbance, and I like my stability."

"Chaos theory," Holly said.

"Yep," Hunter said. "Disturbed systems move to a higher order or disintegrate. We disintegrated. Also, you hate sports which is a big deal. You really have to be in control and although I admit I speak before I think, you are another level entirely."

"Then why didn't you end it?" Holly said, annoyed.

"I liked the hot and sweaty sex. Oh, hell." Hunter scowled at the field where a hapless child had just missed a grounder.

"You know, some kids should not play baseball."

"Actually, I liked the sex, too," Holly said, thinking about it.

"Anytime," Hunter said. "Now that's an arm." He lifted his chin and shouted, "Nice one, Jessica!" Jessica waved back at him and then forgot Hunter and crouched down, waiting for whatever came next.

Jessica is no dummy, Holly thought. "I do like you," she told Hunter, and he looked at her and grinned.

"I like you, too, babe," he said. "If you ever need a guy beaten up, call me."

"Thank you," Holly said, touched. "If you ever need a woman slapped, you have my number."

"Really?" Hunter perked up a little. "Can I watch?"

"And this is why we're no longer having sex," Holly said. "So you're okay?"

"Yes," Hunter said, and then yelled, "No, no, no," at the field. Holly stood up and kissed him on the top of the head. "Don't be mean to these kids," she told him before she left him. "They're going to grow up to own the companies you'll be working for."

* * *

A few minutes before the game ended, Cedes went down to the fence where Sam was leaning on the dugout. She stood there for a minute, not sure what to do, and then she cleared her throat.

"That was good, what you said to Steven Reynolds," she said, hooking her fingers in the chain link. "Really good."

Sam looked out at the field.

Look at me, damn it, Cedes thought, and searched for something that would get his attention. "And . . . really hot," she lied and swallowed hard. "I was very turned on. If there hadn't been so many people here, I'd have done you in the dugout."

Sam stood very still and then turned to her, his face still wooden.

_Uh oh_, she thought.

"Give me five minutes," he said. "I'll clear the place."

Cedes exhaled in relief. "You had me worried."

"Sorry." Sam walked over to her and leaned on the fence to talk to her, looping his fingers through the chain link so they touched hers. "That was a bad flashback."

"Your dad." Cedes crossed her fingers over his because touching him again felt so right. "I got that. Is Harry okay?"

"No," Sam said. "But he'll live."

"I don't know if Steven Reynolds will," Cedes said. "Harmony looked like the Angel of Death."

"His ass is grass," Sam said. "Doesn't help Harry much."

"Why did she marry him?" Cedes blurted. "I'm sorry, but—"

"He blinded her with charm." Sam smiled at her tightly. "He met her in college and then she looked a lot like you now, so soft and round, and he took one look at her money and threw everything he had at her. She never had a chance."

Cedes thought of Harmony, probably a frightened little owl in college, running into the glamorous and gorgeous Steven Reynolds. "Why does she stay?"

"Because he loves her now," Sam said. "Harry's birth changed him. He's a lot better than he used to be. It also didn't hurt that she lost a lot of weight after his birth and Steven Reynolds realizes just how hot and beautiful she is."

"Damn," Cedes said. "What was he like before he supposedly changed?"

"A charming bastard," Sam said, his face grim again as he looked down at her. "Just like all the Evans."

"That's not you," Cedes said.

"Oh, honey, it is sometimes," Sam said miserably. "More than you know."

"I've never seen it," Cedes said.

"That's because I wasn't a bastard with you," Sam said. "You beat that out of me early."

Cedes grinned. "Well, you asked for it, Charm Boy."

"Thanks for coming down here," he said softly, and then Hunter called him and he went back to the field. Cedes went to sit beside Marley, and it wasn't until Marley reached over and covered Cedes' hands with hers that she realized she was shaking.

"How's it going there?" Marley said.

"This fairy tale thing," Cedes said. "It's not for kids." Cedes went out to the parking lot after the game and found Harry in the backseat of Sam's car, and Sam leaning against the passenger door, waiting for her. Don't lunge for him, she told herself. Harry will notice.

"How are we doing?" she said.

"We're going to have lunch," Sam said, straightening. "And hear a lot of Tupac because thanks to you, that's now Harry's favorite music." He opened the car door for her.

"That's because Harry has great taste," Cedes said, sticking her chin out. She got in the car and said, "Hey, fish guy, I hear we're going to the diner for lunch." Harry nodded.

"If I were you, I'd ask for processed meats," Cedes said. "In fact, ask for a brat. Milk this sucker for everything you can get."

Harry looked surprised and then he nodded.

"Ready, Harry?" Sam said as he got in.

Harry nodded at him, soberly. "May I have a brat for lunch?"

"What?" Sam said and turned to look at him.

Harry peered back, woebegone.

"Mercedes," Sam said, looking straight into her eyes. "You're corrupting my nephew."

"Me?" Cedes lost her breath and smiled at him. "No, no. It's just that Americans eat twenty billion hot dogs a year and I think Harry should have one of them."

"Yeah," Harry said from the backseat.

"Twenty billion," Sam said and started to laugh, and Cedes relaxed a little.

When they were on the road, Cedes looked over the seat at Harry. "So what's new in the world of fish?"

"Are you wearing those fish shoes?" Harry said.

"No," Cedes said. "I found another shoe sale. I am wearing glass slippers with cherries on the toes."

Sam looked down at her feet. "They're okay," he said after a moment. "But they're not fish." Harry nodded.

"So explain to me about ichthyology," Cedes said, and for the next two hours, Harry did, while Cedes tried to be fascinated but mostly thought about ways to get Sam to touch her. Anywhere. She'd take a pat on the head. To start with. But even with the distraction of Sam, by the time they were finished with lunch, Cedes knew more about fish than she thought possible.

"I may never eat seafood again," Sam said, as he held the car door for her.

"Yes, but if there's any money in fish, Harry will support you in your old age," Cedes said, trying to ignore how close he was, and got in.

When Sam was in the car, too, Cedes said, "So, Harry, how are you doing back there?"

"Can I have a doughnut?" Harry said, looking woebegone again.

"Harrison," Sam said. "You are pushing it."

"Drive to Krispy Kreme," Cedes told Sam, who rolled his eyes and drove. When they got there, the "Hot" sign was on, and Harry turned his owl eyes on Cedes. "Can I have two?"

"Harry," Sam said.

"Yes," Cedes said. "Today you can have two."

"This is a mistake," Sam said, but he went inside with them and they drank milk and ate warm chocolate-iced glazed doughnuts and talked about fish, and Cedes remembered the picnic table and tried not to breathe faster. By the time Harry was done with his second doughnut, he didn't look woebegone anymore.

When they got back to the car, Sam said to Cedes, "You're in the backseat."

"Okay," Cedes said, and got in the backseat, not sure why she'd been banished. Maybe Sam had seen the lust in her eyes and was trying to protect himself.

Harry looked happy as a clam riding shotgun for about five minutes. Then he turned green.

"Yep," Sam said and pulled over.

Harry opened the door and lost two doughnuts and a pint of milk into the gutter.

"Oh, honey," Cedes said, wincing with guilt. "I'm sorry."

"It was worth it," Harry said, wiping his mouth. "And I kept the brat." Sam passed him a bottle of Evian. "Rinse and spit. At least twice."

"Where'd you get that?" Cedes said while Harry rinsed and spat.

"I bought it when I paid for the doughnuts," Sam said. "I've been here before."

Harry sat back in his seat. "It's pretty gross out there. Should I pour the rest of the water on it?"

"Sure," Sam said and met Cedes's eyes in the rearview mirror. "We Evans always wash out gutters with Evian."

"You people are pure class," Cedes said.

When they pulled into Harry's driveway, which was a clone of Sam's parents' drive, Harry turned to Sam and said, "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome, Harry," Sam said.

Then Harry leaned between the seats and whispered, "Thank you for the doughnuts."

"My pleasure," Cedes whispered back, and then she leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Harry."

He grinned at her and then shot a superior look at his uncle.

"Harrison, if you're trying to steal with my lady, you're in big trouble," Sam said.

Harry grinned wider and got out of the car. "See ya," he said and slammed the door.

"He's a little young for you, don't you think?" Sam said, meeting her eyes in the rearview.

Cedes swallowed. "Yes, but he's an Evans. You can't resist that charm."

"Yeah, I thought it was particularly charming the way he barfed in the gutter," Sam said. "You going to move back up here with me?"

"I kind of like it back here," Cedes said, faking unconcern. "Home, Evans."

"Get your butt up here, Jones," Sam said, and Cedes laughed and got out of the car.

When she was in the front seat and Sam had pulled out of the driveway, she said, "Is he okay?"

"Sure," Sam said. "Harry's used to throwing up."

"I mean about the game."

"Yeah," Sam said. "It'll come back to haunt him at odd moments from now on but he'll handle it. He got rescued. The people around him told him he was fine. And Harmony will handle it for him at home. It's just tough when it's your dad telling you that you're stupid."

"Yeah," Cedes said, hating Dwight Jefferson Evans with a passion. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I'm fine."

"Good," Cedes said, and took a deep breath. She'd been on simmer for way too long. She had him alone, it was time for a plan. The smart thing to do would be to get everything out in the open, beginning with telling him she knew about the bet, discuss it like adults, and then maybe she could jump him—

"What?" Sam said into the silence.

"What?" Cedes said, jerking back in guilt.

"You went quiet," Sam said. "Spill it."

"Oh." Maybe a full frontal approach wasn't the way to go. "Well," Cedes said. "I was thinking . . ."

"Uh huh," Sam said.

". . . that we have some issues to, uh, settle. I think. I would like to settle them."

"Yes," Sam said, sounding as if he didn't have a clue what she was talking about but was willing to play along anyway.

"Because I think . . . maybe ... we could . . . you know ... give this a shot," she said. "If we talked." Sam's hands tightened on the wheel, but he kept his eyes on the road. "All right." _You're not helping_, Cedes thought. "Did you know that seventy-eight percent of couples keep secrets from each other?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Sam said.

Cedes nodded.

"You made that up, didn't you?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Although I bet it's close. Is there something you're not telling me? Something from ..." She shrugged. "... oh, before you met me?"

Sam didn't say anything, and when she looked over he had that _Oh, hell look_ on his face. "You already know," he said, "or you wouldn't ask."

"Well, yes," Cedes said, every muscle she had tensing. W_hy did you have to ask? All those people who say_, _'Just talk about it_,' they're idiots.

"Cedes, it was years ago. My life was hell, and she was so great, and Steven Reynolds was treating her like dirt—"

_What?_ Cedes thought, her stomach plummeting.

Sam shook his head. "She's a good person. I fell pretty hard."

"Oh," Cedes said, and told herself, Next time be more specific about the confession you want, you dumbass.

"Nothing happened, Cedes," Sam said, glancing at her as he drove. "Harmony isn't a cheater, and as much as I want to smack my brother every time I see him, I wouldn't do that to him. We just talked. A lot."

"Uh huh," Cedes said, trying to sound bright and encouraging.

"It was years ago," Sam said. "She said I was the only person who didn't care about her money. You've met her. You know what she's like. She's wonderful."

"Uh huh," Cedes said. _I'm going to kill myself now._

"Are you okay?"

Cedes turned to look at him and blurted, "Did you love her?"

Sam slowed the car and Cedes thought,_ Oh, just hell, when will I learn not to ask what I don't want to know?_

He pulled over and shut off the ignition and turned to her. "Yes."

"Oh." Cedes nodded. "Okay. From now on, when I ask you something, just refuse to answer, okay?"

"All right," he said.

"Do you still love her?" Cedes said.

"Yes," Sam said.

"You don't listen," Cedes said.

"Cedes, it's not like that. I haven't been in love with her for a long time. I think we both saw where it was going and neither of us wanted that nightmare, and Steven Reynolds starting paying attention to her again, and I dated other women, and over time, it went away."

"Not really," Cedes said. "There's something nice between you. More than in-law affection."

Sam nodded. "Yes, she's special. But it's not... romantic. That was over a long time ago. Years and years ago."

"Uh huh," Cedes said, still coping.

Sam stared out the window. "Lucy Quinn," he began, and Cedes thought, _Oh, kill me now._ "She never caught that. She's the psychologist, we were together for nine months, and she never saw that I'd felt like that about Harmony. How did you?"

"I'm very acute," Cedes lied.

Sam slid a little way down in his seat and stared out the windshield, and Cedes watched the ease in his broad body and wanted him more than she thought was possible. "You know, Quinn spent months trying to figure out why I was a serial dater."

"A what?" Cedes said, trying to find her way back from lust and misery.

"That's what she called it. The hit and run thing you keep busting me on. She decided it was because I was trying to make up for my mother, that I was trying to get love from all these women, and then when they gave it to me, I'd leave them to try to earn it from somebody else."

"That Lucy Quinn, a theory for every occasion," Cedes said, feeling bitter and wanting somebody to take it out on. Lucy Quinn seemed good.

"I wasn't looking for my mother," Sam said. "I was looking for Harmony." He turned and Cedes smiled at him so he wouldn't see she was about to open the car door and throw up in the gutter. "I wanted somebody I could talk to, somebody I didn't have to charm and please, somebody it just felt good to be with." He shook his head. "I just didn't realize it until now."

"Well, good luck on that," Cedes said brightly.

"Pay attention, Mercy," he said. "I was dead in the water the minute you sat down on my picnic table." Suddenly Cedes realized there was no air anywhere. That would account for the dizziness.

"It took me a while to figure it out," he said. "I wasn't used to anybody like you. Because there isn't anybody else like you."

_Keep breathing_, Cedes thought.

"And then you ripped up at me in the street in front of Rory's, and I thought, Well, the hell with you. For about five minutes. Then I just wanted you back. You're the only woman I've ever wanted back. And I've been trying to figure out a way to get you back ever since."

Cedes sucked in some air before she passed out.

"I love you," Sam said. "I know it's insane, we've only known each other a few weeks, we need more time, I get all of that, but I love you and it's not going to change."

Cedes took another deep breath. You needed air to talk.

"For God's sake, Cedes, say something," Sam said.

"I love you," Cedes said on a breath. "I've loved you forever."

"That'll do it," Sam said and reached for her.


	15. Chapter 13

**Janette is back being almost the worst mom ****ever**** (Mary Lynne is the absolute worst.) trigger warning for fat shaming. Creep and Creepier are still here, and Jake the snake is slimy as usual. Thanks for continuing this journey with me. There are three more chapters after this one. I don't own anything or I wouldn't have given so much time to the Creepz and please forgive my mistakes and thanks for supporting this retelling with your reviews, follows, and favorites.**

**Chapter Thirteen**

Cedes wrapped her arms around his neck, so grateful to be back in his warmth that she dragged him over the stick shift to get him closer to her.

"Ouch," Sam said.

"Sorry," Cedes said, trying to pull back.

"Not a problem," Sam said, holding on. "God I've missed you." He kissed her and the glittering heat flared low just like always, except that this time she wasn't fighting it and it went everywhere. She clutched at him, amazed that he was kissing her again, breaking the kiss to kiss him again, over and over until he stopped to breathe.

"Listen," she said. "About my heart. Don't break it."

"Right. Me, too." Sam pulled her back, and she fell into him and lost herself, drunk on the knowledge that she could have him, would have him, that everything was going to be wonderful. She felt his hand slide under her shirt and touch her breast, and she shuddered against him and bit his lip, and his hand tightened on her, and then her cell phone rang.

He pulled back, breathing hard, his eyes dark for her, and she held on to him.

"Ignore it," she said, gasping, "it's Bree, she calls twelve times a day, come back here and love me," and he shook his head.

"Answer it," he said, between breaths. "We have to stop. We're parked on a public road."

"I don't care," she said, reaching for him again.

He put the car in gear. "Your place or mine, Mercy, but definitely not in a car."

"Whatever's closer" Cedes said, and answered the phone to stop the ringing as Sam pulled out into traffic.

"Cedes," Bree said, her voice tight. "Oh, Cedes, we're in trouble."

"Okay," Cedes said, trying not to sound dizzy with lust. "What?"

"The rehearsal dinner," Bree said. "Jake was going to get the caterers because he could get us this deal."

"Oh." Cedes looked at Sam, who was much too far away. "Jake was going to get the caterers for the rehearsal dinner. In four hours."

"I hate Jake," Sam said.

Bree sounded as breathless as Cedes felt. "Mom's going to crucify Jake and he's already a nervous wreck. This was supposed to be my perfect wedding."

"Okay," Cedes said. "Let me think." _Sam, naked, in my bed, in me. No, not that thought_.

"What are we going to do? There's nothing that we can do be honest." Bree said.

"I'm trying to think," Cedes said and met Sam's eyes for a long moment, until the car drifted and hit the edge of the pavement and Sam yanked it back.

"Where is this dinner?" he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

"At some bed and breakfast near the chapel," Cedes said. "Down by the river. Why?"

"How many people?" Sam said.

"Fourteen, I think," Cedes said and spoke into the phone. "Dinner for fourteen, right?"

"Yes," Bree said.

"We can do it," Sam said. "Tell her it's okay."

"We can?" Cedes said. "We who?"

"Hunter and Ryder and I worked in a restaurant, remember? We'll get supplies from Rory's, you make chicken marsala, and they'll plate it and serve it. Your parents don't know Hunter and Ryder so they'll buy them as servers. It'll work."

"I'm making chicken marsala?" Cedes said and then thought, _What the hell_. "Okay, I'm making chicken marsala." She spoke into the phone. "We've got it covered. Relax. Your job is to give Mom a story if Sam and I are late and to make sure the back door to that kitchen is open. We'll do everything else."

"Oh, thank God," Bree said. "I didn't interrupt anything, did I?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "But it's okay. We have a couple of hours before we have to cook. We can do a lot in a couple of—"

"No, you don't," Bree said. " Are you crazy? You've got the last fitting right now. We thought you were on your way. We're here now. We're waiting for you. You can't miss the fitting. Mom will kill you. I need you. You can't—"

"Right. Now," Cedes said. "I forgot."

"Don't tell me," Sam said as he slowed the car.

"Fitting," she said to him. "I have a fitting right now. I have to—"

"Not a problem," Sam said, taking a deep breath. "I'll drop you off at the fitting, I'll get the food for the dinner, we'll cook, we'll go to the dinner, and then —"

"I have to spend the night with my sister," Cedes said, closing her eyes. "I hate it, but it's the night before her wedding, I promised—"

"Fine," Sam said. "Not a problem."

"Maybe not for you," Cedes said, and thought, l_oud voice, loud voice_. She took a deep breath. "I want you now. I want—"

"Oh, Christ," Sam said. "I'm trying to be—"

"Excuse me, Mercedes Jones?" Bree said from the other end of the phone.

"I'll be there," Cedes told her and hung up.

"Where's the fitting?" Sam said, his voice resigned.

"Bridal department at Finocchiaro's," Cedes said bitterly. "Why couldn't Jake have been in charge of the dresses?"

Sam drove to the store, kissed her several times, and then drove off to get the dinner supplies, and it wasn't until he was gone that she realized that he still hadn't mentioned the bet. _We didn't have time_, she thought. _There's a good reason, I didn't give him a chance, and even if there's not a good reason, I don't care, nothing is going to screw this up for me._ Then she went to face her mother and that damn corset.

"You're late again," her mother said as she came through the door.

"Hi, Mom," Cedes said, prepared to savage her if she said anything nasty.

"Eat this," Janette said and handed her an apple.

"Why?" Cedes said.

"Because God knows what those caterers that Jake got will make. He is completely unreliable. And you know he didn't tell them not to use butter. So fill up on that."

"On this." Cedes looked at the apple, shook her head, and put it down to go jam herself into the corset. Half an hour later, the fitter left Cedes's dressing room, and Cedes stared at herself in the mirror, all heat gone, and thought, I'd kill myself, but this is not the last thing I want to see before I go. She was once again in the blue skirt that zipped up only when she sucked in all the air in the room, the lavender chiffon blouse that still pulled across the bust, and the new blue corset that only laced shut when Cedes gave up breathing and the fitter used the force of ten. And she wasn't going to be taking any deep breaths now that the damn thing was on: one good heave and she'd pop out the top of it. Why would Sam want to sleep with somebody who looks like this?

Cedes came out of the dressing room, and Janette said, "It still doesn't fit," in a tone that did not bode well for her curvaceous daughter.

"As God is my witness, I have followed that diet," Cedes said to her, feeling depressed. "Mostly."

"You've had a year," her mother said bitterly. "And now you're going to ruin Bree's beautiful wedding."

"Here's an idea." Cedes tried to tug the corset up. "Why don't I sprain an ankle and Karen can be the maid of honor? That way the entire wedding party will be beautiful and thin, and—"

"No," Bree said from the doorway, and they both turned to her.

"Not your loud voice, dear," Janette said.

Bree pointed at Cedes. "You're my sister and you're going to be my maid of honor and you're going to look beautiful because that lavender is just your color and it's all going to be perfect." She had the same maniacal look in her eye that Janette did, so Cedes shut up.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now." Janette stood up, disgusted. "You were late, and we have a million things to do. The dinner's in three hours, for heaven's sake. You'll have to try on the rehearsal dinner dress without us."

"Rehearsal dinner dress?" Cedes said. "Why—"

"I found something for you that will be slimming." Janette shook her head at her eldest daughter, the disappointment. "Make sure the hem is in the right place. If it stops at your knees, then your legs will look like fence posts."

"Thank you, Mother," Cedes said, figuring this was a fight she didn't care about. She just felt tired.

Her mother stopped and met her eyes. "I know you think I'm awful. But I know how the world works. And it's not kind to fat people, Cedes. It's especially not kind to fat women. I want to see you happy and safe, married to a good man, and it's not going to happen if you don't lose that weight."

"She's not fat," Bree said from behind her. "She is NOT FAT!"

"Not your loud voice," Janette said, and Bree glared at her.

"Screw my loud voice, stop telling her she's fat." Bree stopped, looking as surprised as Janette and Cedes that she'd said it. She went on, in a calmer voice. "Leave her alone."

Janette shook her head and leaned forward to grip Cedes by the upper arms. "I just want you to be happy," she said, and then stopped and squeezed Cedes' arms again. "Have you been lifting weights the way I told you to? Because if your arms aren't toned, those chiffon sleeves—"

"We have to go now," Bree said, pushing her mother toward the door. "We'll be late as it is." She turned back at the door and said, "You look great," before she left, too.

"Yeah," Cedes said and turned back to look at herself in the mirror. The chiffon blouse wasn't too bad, but her breasts were just obnoxious.

"Oh, Lord," she said, and tried to sit down but the skirt was too tight.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," the fitter said and scurried around behind her to unzip the skirt before it split.

"I hate this," Cedes said as she stepped out of the skirt.

"The color is wonderful on you," the fitter said, and Cedes looked back into the mirror and thought, She's right. Bree has a perfect eye for that kind of thing. "You're lucky you didn't get the green one," the fitter went on as she unlaced the corset and Cedes began to breathe again. "The colors are going to look lovely going down the aisle, green and blue and your blue-violet, but the little blonde who has to wear the green is so unhappy about it."

_Wet_, Cedes thought. _Well, that's what you get for dating the groom_.

"Now, I'll bring you the dinner dress, and we'll get you all fixed up."

"Yeah," Cedes said. She took the blouse off and stood to look at herself in the mirror. Full breasts, full hips, full thighs... She tried to remember what Sam had said but her mother's voice was louder.

"Here we go," the fitter said, coming back. "We'll just slip this over your head..." Cedes looked at herself in the mirror as the dresser zipped her up. Her mother had chosen black, of course, a sheath dress with a vertical white insert down the front that made her look vaguely like a penguin. V-shaped inserts at the waist were supposed to give the illusion of a waistline but instead made her look like a penguin whose bow tie was riding low.

"It's very slimming," the fitter said.

"Right," Cedes said, and picked up her mother's apple. "Slimming."

From behind her, Sam said, "Gawd, that's an ugly dress," and she turned to see him leaning in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.

Cedes's heart gave a leap. "Oh, good, it's you."

"What were you thinking, Mercy?" Sam said, coming into the room, his eyes on hers. "Take that thing off. It's an insult to your body."

"Only one of many today," Cedes said. "My mother picked this out. She has excellent taste."

"I don't think so." Sam put everything on the low table by the couch. "I could pick out a better dress than that."

"You're on," Cedes said. "I'll give you five minutes while I eat this apple, and then we're hemming this thing so my legs don't look like fence posts. Did you bring a corkscrew? I could use the wine, too."

Sam took the apple out of her hand. "Apples and wine? I don't think so." He tossed the apple in the small gold wastebasket beside the table and pulled a corkscrew out of his pocket. "Your legs are great. Take that dress off. There must be a better one someplace."

"Downstairs," the fitter said eagerly, looking at Sam as if he were the best thing she'd ever seen. Cedes looked at Sam and remembered he was gorgeous.

"Hi." Sam smiled at the fitter. "I'm Sam."

"Hi," she said back, smiling wider. "I'm Terri."

O_h, for crying out loud_, Cedes thought.

"Terri, you look like you have exceptional taste," Sam said to her. "I know you didn't pick that thing out."

"No, no," Terri said, disavowing all knowledge.

"I bet you could find her the perfect dress," Sam said, looking right into her eyes, sincerity made flesh."Maybe something bright red."

"Purple," Terri said. "She looks wonderful in lavender or violet."

"So she does. Go find a great purplish dress and we'll celebrate with a drink."

Terri hesitated. "Mrs. Jones was very clear . . ."

"I'll take care of Mrs. Jones," Sam said. "You take care of the dress." When Terri was gone, Sam screwed the corkscrew into the cork and yanked it, and the cork popped out without a fight. Then he poured her a glass. "Here. You're tense."

"My mother was here and she did her usual number on my self-esteem. She basically called me fat and I feel fat and ugly," Cedes said, taking the glass and wishing he was touching her. Except she was fat.

"That explains why you look like Bambi all sad and doe-eyed. Don't believe your mother. I have told you-you are pleasingly round and I am not the only person who thinks you are sexy." Sam looked over his shoulder. "Now come over here you haven't kissed me in an hour, Mercedes Jones."

Cedes stepped down off the platform and went to him, loving the way his arms went around her, trying not to think about how fat she must feel under his hands, and then he kissed her hard, and she sighed against him, grateful to have him even if she didn't know why he wanted her. _The bet._ Nope, never, that was not it, she believed in him.

"What's wrong?" he said. "Let me guess," he said. "You are still thinking about your mother. Ignore her. Think about me."

She smiled in spite of herself, and he kissed her again, his mouth gentle on hers, and she felt the tension in her body begin to ease.

"There you go," he said, patting her back. "Now drink your wine. I'm going to get you drunk and then have my way with you under the table at the rehearsal dinner."

"Oh, if only," Cedes said and sipped her wine.

Half a glass of wine and several kisses later, Cedes was feeling much better, and Terri came back with a hanger full of something dark purple and slinky.

"You're kidding me," Cedes said. "This is for me, remember?"

"No, this one's for me," Sam said, looking at it on the hanger. "I'm taking you to this thing and I'm not going to look at a butt-ugly dress all night."

"Leave," Cedes said. "I'm not undressing in front of you." _Yet._ She thought of Janette grabbing her arm and squeezing. Maybe never.

"Well, a guy can hope," Sam said and took his wine out the door with him.

When he was gone, Terri asked, "That's your boyfriend?"

"Yes," Cedes said, surprised to realize he was.

"My God, he's beautiful," Terri said.

"He's nice, too," Cedes said. "But about this dress—"

"No, it'll be good," Terri said, shaking the dress out as she held it up. "Your boyfriend likes it. Does he know anything about women's clothes?"

"I think he's removed a lot of them," Cedes said, stripping off the penguin dress.

"He could remove mine," Terri said and then froze. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Not a problem," Cedes said, handing her the penguin dress. "I'm used to it. How does this one go on?"

"You pull it over your head," Terri said, giving her the purple dress. "It's a draped surplice top."

"I don't know." Cedes held the dress up.

"Try it on," Terri said. "He likes it."

"And he brought me wine," Cedes said. "Where's my glass?" She tossed back the rest of her glass and then, with a sigh, pulled the dress over her head and looked in the mirror.

There were many things right with the dress. The surplice neck made her look thinner and the way it draped over her breasts was downright sexy as long as she didn't slump. And the drape made her hips look voluptuous instead of buslike. But still, this was the kind of dress that thin women wore, this was—

"The handkerchief hem is genius," Terri said. "He's right, you do have good legs. They're just. . . curvy."

"Thank you," Cedes said. "The rest of me is curvy, too."

"You look really sexy in this," Terri said. "I'll go get him so he can see."

"I'll have some more wine," Cedes said, but the dresser was already gone, Sam-hunting. Cedes poured a second glass and sipped it while she stared into the mirror. The dress was a vast improvement over the penguin dress. Plus her mother would be annoyed, which served her right. Even better, she wouldn't be able to say anything because Cedes could tell her that Sam liked it. "So, okay," Cedes said, toasting her reflection, and knocked back the entire glass. The warmth of the wine spread through her, melding nicely with the warmth from Sam's kisses, and she sighed.

She was bending over the table to get a third glass of wine when Sam came back.

"I hear you look—" he began and stopped so distracted by that ass on full display.

"What?" Cedes said, looking up from the wine.

"Uh," he said and she followed his eyes as they left her behind and came to her cleavage, most of which was displayed because the surplice was gaping. "You look good," Sam said with enough tension in his voice to make it an understatement.

"It's not a fat dress," Cedes said, turning back to the mirror. "It doesn't hide anything."

"Haven't we talked about this?" Sam said, coming to stand behind her.

"Yes, but my mother has talked so much negativity that I am back to believing her again," Cedes said. "Also, there's this mirror which tells me I am not the perfect size. You can barely see that I have a waistline in this dress."

"You definitely have a waistline." Sam put his hands on her hips. "It's right here." He slid his hands across her stomach and she shivered, watching him touch her in the mirror. With Sam's hands on her, she looked different, good, and when he pulled her back against his chest, she relaxed into him and let her head fall back on his shoulder. "Very sexy dress," he whispered into her ear and then kissed her neck. She drew in her breath and he whispered, "Very sexy woman," and moved his hand up to her neckline, drawing his finger down the edge of the silky fabric, making her shudder as the heat spread and she began to feel liquid everywhere.

"I have to stop drinking wine when I'm with you," she whispered to him in the mirror. "I start believing everything you tell me." He grinned at her, his reflection warming her as much as his body against her back. She bit her lip. "It feels so good to be alone with you. And I can't because we have to go to this rehearsal dinner, we have to make this rehearsal dinner, and then tomorrow I've got to go to this wedding in a ridiculous dress and I'm feeling fat again."

"That's because you're not paying attention," Sam said in her ear. "Look at yourself."

"I am," she said, and he said, "Not the way I look at you." His hand moved up her side and he whispered, "Look at the beautiful curve of you, how full you are," and as his voice in her ear made her dizzy, his hand moved up around her breast.

She turned her head and said, "Hey!" and brought her hand up to move his, and he stopped her breath with his mouth, kissing her hard, catching her hand to press her open palm against the warm heaviness of her breast, and she thought, That feels so good, and let the heat wash over her.

"Look how beautiful you are," he whispered in her ear as he laced his fingers in her other hand. "There's not a man alive who could see you like this and not want to touch you." He rolled her other hand so her palm was against her stomach and slid it up to her breast. "You're a fantasy, Cedes. You're my fantasy." He pressed both her palms against her breasts and she felt the fullness there and shuddered under his hands and believed him.

She turned in his arms and kissed him with everything she had, pressing herself against him with no other thought than to get close, loving how hard his body felt against hers, the way her body yielded to him, the heat of his hands on her as they slid down and pulled her to him. She arched her hips against him, bit his lip and licked his mouth, felt him shaking as she whispered, "I want you" and heard his breath shudder as he kissed her on the neck and then softly bit the place he'd kissed.

"Whoops," Terri said from behind them, and Cedes pulled back, dizzy and breathless.

"We'll take the dress," Sam said, without looking around, his voice husky.

"This is a very dangerous dress," Cedes said, trying to catch her breath.

"That's why we're taking it," Sam said and kissed her again before he let her go.

When they got to the bed and breakfast, Bree had left the back door unlocked as promised. "It's a decent kitchen," Sam said when they'd unloaded the car. "We can work here."

"It's a great kitchen compared to my kitchenette," Cedes said with envy. She turned to Sam and said, "I think—" and he kissed her while she smiled against his mouth and moved closer to him. "What was that for?"

"Because I can," Sam said and pulled her closer. Her cell phone rang, and he leaned back. "What did Jake forget now?"

Cedes clicked her phone on. "Hi."

"Where are you? We're at the B and B. Mom's fussing over my dress," Bree said, all in a frantic whisper. "She wants to know where you are."

"We're downstairs getting ready to cook," Cedes said, as Sam kissed her on the neck. She stifled a giggle and said, "Stall her."

"She's going to be mad at you," Bree said.

"And this is news," Cedes said. "She would have been mad when she saw my dress anyway. Sam picked it out. I look like a ho." She felt Sam laugh against her hair.

"Really?" Bree said. "What color is it?"

"A color fit for a queen," Sam said loudly.

"I'll stall Mom," Bree said." Thank you!"

"You don't look like a ho," Sam said when Cedes clicked off her phone. "You look like an expensive call girl." He slid his hand down to her ample rear end. "And I have money."

"Try to think of cooking as foreplay," Cedes said, and Sam sighed and started to unpack the food. Fifteen minutes later, Cedes had the bottoms of four frying pans covered in hot olive oil, Sam had pounded sixteen chicken breasts flat as flounders and was washing mushrooms, and Bree had stuck her head in to say, "No butter. And thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Where am I, by the way?" Cedes said as she began to dredge the chicken breasts.

"Sam's car broke down and you're somewhere on the road," Bree said.

"My car did not break down," Sam said, stopping in mid-mushroom. "I keep that car in—"

"Thank you, that'll work," Cedes said, and Bree left. "I know, but can you park your male pride for the night?"

"What's in it for me?" Sam said.

"My eternal gratitude," Cedes said and leaned over the table and kissed him on the mouth, loving the way his mouth fit hers.

"How much gratitude?" Sam said, leaning to follow her as she pulled away.

"More than I can express in a single night," Cedes said. "Slice some of those, will you? We need some for the salad." She held the first chicken piece over the hot oil and stopped.

"Problem?" Sam said.

"No," Cedes said and put down the chicken. She rummaged in one of the bags and pulled out a pound of butter. "You know," she said as she opened the box, "you really can't cook without a little butter."

"Yep," Sam said and grinned at her.

Cedes dropped a healthy pat into each of the four pans and inhaled the delicious aroma. Then she smiled and dropped the chicken breasts in.

"They'll never know anyway," Sam said.

"My mother can smell butter on me three days after I've eaten it," Cedes said. "She'll know. I just don't care. Tear up the romaine next, will you? I've got to steam beans."

Half an hour later, Hunter and Ryder showed up in white shirts and black bow ties with Marley behind them.

"What?" Cedes said, trying not to laugh at the ties.

"Yeah, you snicker now, but you're going to be impressed later," Hunter said, and did water goblets faster than she could have imagined, as Ryder slung fourteen plates in a row and squirted raspberry sauce on them in a pattern and then plated salads that looked like they'd come from the Ritz.

"I'm impressed," Cedes said.

"So am I," Marley said from her stool at the end of the table where she was cutting scallions into strips, and Ryder beamed at her as Hunter carried the glasses out.

When Hunter came back, he said, "They're all out in the parlor, being polite. Bree looks bored. Well, she did until she saw me in this tie."

"Must be hell," Cedes said over the steaming pan of beans. "I'd much rather be in here with you guys. From now on, I'm catering all my mother's dinners."

"Not once she tastes the butter," Sam said and helped Hunter lay out another fourteen plates for the entree.

Ten minutes later, the plates were ready for the chicken, the chicken looked like heaven simmering in its dark wine sauce, the green beans were tossed with the almonds and tied into bundles with the scallion strips, and Cedes was talking to herself.

"Salad, done," she said to herself. "Meat, beans, done. Rory's corn relish, ready to plate. Rolls out of the oven and in baskets. What have I missed? Oh, damn. Dessert."

"I've got the dessert." Sam picked up the last bag and pulled out two boxes that said Krispy Kreme.

"Doughnuts," Cedes said, appalled.

"Get me a cake plate," Sam said, and Marley rummaged in the cupboard and found one. Then while they watched, he made a ring of seven chocolate-iced cake doughnuts with one in the middle topped by a ring of five chocolate cake doughnuts, topped by a ring of three vanilla-iced glazed, topped by one beautiful chocolate-iced Kreme on top, all stuck together with the white glaze icing that Marley had dribbled between the layers.

Cedes's mouth began to water.

"I read about this," Marley said, standing back. "It was in People magazine. People do this all the time." Sam picked up a box he'd set to one side, ripped it open, and dumped out a very small bride and groom under a plastic arch. It looked like hell until he shoved it into the top doughnut, and then it looked funky.

"This is one of the cakes I want at my wedding," Cedes said. "Of course, my mother is going to go into cardiac arrest." Sam grinned at her, and she laughed as she took off her apron. "You're a genius, Samuel. I need one moment in the closet to put on my dress, and then it's showtime."

She changed as fast as she could, and when she came back she heard Hunter say to Sam, "Okay, we got it. You can go—" He stopped when he saw her, and then Ryder turned to follow his eyes and stopped, too, and Marley peered out from behind Ryder.

"Oh, Cedes," she said. "You look wonderful."

"Very, very hot and extremely sexy," Hunter said, staring at her, and Sam clipped him on the back of the head. "I'm just saying," Hunter said.

Sam handed the cake to Ryder. "You guys can handle everything now?"

"Piece of cake," Hunter said, and Cedes stopped, startled. "What?" he said.

"Nothing." Cedes shook her head and then checked her face in the mirror by the door to make sure she wasn't wearing flour as a foundation. The heat from the kitchen had kinked her hair and she looked . . .

"You look beautiful," Sam said, and Cedes turned and saw Ryder and Hunter with him, and realized that a month before, she hadn't known any of these guys, and now they'd all come together to bail her sister out of trouble.

"This is so great of you," she said to them. "This is so above and beyond the call of friendship."

"Anything for you, babe," Hunter said.

He bent down and kissed her cheek, and Cedes was flustered, and Sam said, "Enough with the flirting with other men, Mercedes," and took her hand, and Ryder patted her shoulder as Sam pulled her out the back door.

"Those three in there are the best people," she said to him, as they hit the gravel path around to the front of the house.

"Yes," Sam said. "And now we get to have dinner with your family."

"Oh, hell," Cedes said.

Looking back on the rehearsal dinner later, Cedes found it hard to choose the low point of the evening. There was the moment when Janette spotted them coming through the door and was so caught off guard by Cedes' purple dress that she stopped after "You're late . . ." and just glared while Cedes braced herself.

But then Sam patted her on the back and Jake's best man, Shane a professional football player said, "Whoa you are so hot," and nodded at her.

"Thank you," Cedes told him appreciative of the comment in the wake of her mother's glare.

"I told you so," Sam said in her ear. "Stay away from him." Or there was the moment when Cedes saw Jake, who had decided to have his hair cut in a Caesar cut the day before his wedding, and looked, as primped and groomed as if he were the bride.

"Don't ever be like him he has enough time to get his hair cut, a facial, and a manicure but not enough time to hire caterers," Cedes whispered to Sam and Sam said, "No, I don't think I can be like him even if I tried." Or the moment when Ryder and Hunter were serving the salads, and Bree grinned and said, "Gee, such cute waiters," and Ryder almost dropped Jake's salad in his lap.

"Watch it," Jake said sharply, and Bree lost her smile.

''Very cute," Cedes said, and frowned at Jake, who blinked back at her. Or the moment when Jake's mother said, "This chicken is delicious. Who did you say catered this?" and all eyes turned to Jake.

Cedes let him flounder for a couple of seconds and then said, "Rory's, wasn't it?", throwing him a rope that he grabbed onto so gratefully she almost felt sorry for him. That was followed by the moment when Janette said, "There's butter in this."

"Yep," Cedes said and kept eating while Sam patted her back.

But the low point probably came toward the end of the meal when Cedes' cell phone rang. She looked over at Bree, startled, since Bree was the only one who would be calling her, and then remembered the trio in the kitchen. "I'll be right back," she said and slipped outside to answer it. "Hello?"

"Cedes," Anthony said. "I've been trying to get you all day."

"Why?" Cedes said. "Never mind, I don't care. This is my sister's rehearsal dinner, Anthony. Go away."

"It's about Sam," Anthony said, and Cedes grew still. "I still care for you, Cedes, and you need to know something about Sam Evans."

"Do I," Cedes said flatly.

"That night he picked you up?" Anthony said. "He did it because he made a bet that he could get you into bed in a month."

"He did," Cedes said, thinking, _What a waste you are._

"The bet's up next Wednesday, Cedes," Anthony said, sincerity oozing through the phone. "And Sam Evans does not lose. He'll do anything to win that bet. I thought you should know. I don't want you to get hurt."

"Gee, thanks," Cedes said.

"You don't sound upset," Anthony said.

"Boys will be boys," Cedes said.

"I thought you'd be shocked," Anthony said, sounding shocked himself.

"Anthony, I knew," Cedes said. "I overheard you. Which is why I also know that Sam didn't make that bet, you did. It was your idea, which makes you the chief slimeball in this."

"No," Anthony said hastily, "no, I was upset because we'd broken up—"

"Anthony, you dumped me," Cedes said. "What the hell were you upset about?"

"—I've regretted that bet a thousand times since, but Sam won't call it off."

"Asked him to, have you?" Cedes said, not believing him.

"Over and over," Anthony said.

"Anthony?" Cedes said.

"Yes?" Anthony said.

"Rot in hell," Cedes said, and clicked off the phone.

She stood on the porch of the bed and breakfast and looked out over the river beyond. It was very pretty. "Damn," she said. She believed in Sam, she really did, but that bet... _I'll ask him after the wedding_, she told herself. When she was out of that awful corset, when they were alone, when they could talk it out without Bree tugging on her arm for help, she'd ask him then. Tomorrow night, she told herself and went back inside in time to catch what was definitely the high point of the evening, Janette's face when she saw the Krispy Kreme cake.

* * *

"Hey," Anthony said when Lucy Quinn picked up the phone on Sunday afternoon. "I haven't heard from you. What's—"

"It's over," Lucy Quinn said, and she sounded as if she been crying. "They're in infatuation. It could be years before he comes to his senses. We lost, Anthony."

"No, we didn't," Anthony said. "I don't lose."

"Sam loves her. He's being honest with her. There's nothing—"

"No, he isn't," Anthony said, fed up with hearing about Sam. "He's chasing her to win that damn bet."

"What?" Lucy Quinn said.

"Uh," Anthony said, trying to find a way to explain that without looking like slime.

"Tell me," Lucy Quinn said, her voice brooking no nonsense.

"That first night," Anthony said. "I was mad. And hurt. And—"

"Anthony, I don't care about you," Lucy Quinn said. "Tell me about the bet."

"I bet Sam that he couldn't get Cedes into bed in a month," Anthony said.

"Sam would not make that bet," Lucy Quinn said, her voice sure.

"Oh, because he's too noble."

"He distracted you with something else."

"He bet me he could take her to dinner."

"She left with him because you made a bet?" Lucy Quinn said, fury in her voice.

"It wasn't my fault," Anthony said.

"It doesn't matter now anyway." Lucy Quinn's voice dropped back into misery. "Even if you told her about the bet, she'd check with Sam."

"She already knew," Anthony said, resentfully. "I called her and told her last night. She said she'd overheard us."

Lucy Quinn didn't say anything.

"I think she went to dinner with him to make me mad," Anthony said. "He sounded like she was pretty snippy, so she must have made him pay, too." The silence stretched on until Anthony said, "Lucy Quinn?"

"Does he know?" Lucy Quinn said, her voice tight. "Does he know that she went out with him to make him pay?"

"I don't think so," Anthony said. "He hasn't called me to tell me the bet's off, and once he knows that she knows, it's off."

More silence.

"Lucy Quinn?"

"Do you know where Sam is now?" Lucy Quinn said.

"No, but he'll be at Bree's wedding tonight," Anthony said. "What diff—"

"I know how to break them up," Lucy Quinn said, her voice like lead.

"How?" Anthony said.

"Take me to the wedding. If she hasn't slept with him yet, he's frustrated to the breaking point. I'll watch them, and if something makes him tense, if she turns him down again, if something goes wrong..." Lucy Quinn paused again, and then he heard her take a deep breath. "All you have to do is tell him that Cedes' been making a fool of him all along. Tell him that everybody thinks he's stupid."

"That's enough to break them up?" Anthony said.

"That's enough to give Sam nightmares for years," Lucy Quinn said, her voice miserable. "It's illogical, but it's been his trigger since he was a kid. Push that button and he explodes. If he does it in front of her family and friends—"

"Wow," Anthony said, impressed with her once again.

"What time is the wedding?" Lucy Quinn said.

"Seven," Anthony said. "Bree wanted it at twilight. Some fairy tale garbage."

"Pick me up at six," Lucy Quinn said, and hung up.

* * *

Cedes had spent the night with Bree, who'd been so manic that she'd still been up, fixing bows on cake boxes, when Cedes gave up and went to bed, too tired even to miss Sam. But the next day, Bree was quiet, still tense but not manic with energy anymore.

"I just didn't get enough sleep," she told Cedes.

When they got to the chapel dressing room, Wet, Worse, the rest of the wedding party including Janette were waiting and Cedes ducked Janette and her hair combs whose first words were "Cedes, you look awful with your hair like that".

Cedes took the cake boxes to the reception hall next door and then went into the bathroom at the chapel to put her dress on. She was not going to struggle into the damn thing while Janette made comments and Worse smirked. _Something was very wrong,_ she thought as she tried to get the corset tied around her. Something besides her insane mother and the idiot Wet who was a weeping bridesmaid in green, something beyond the cake Marley was now trying to decorate in orchids and pearls, something, she was pretty sure, was the groom._ I've got to talk to Bree_, Cedes thought, but what was she going to say? "You're miserable and your groom is a moron and I think we should eat the cake and go home"?

"Oh, hell," she said and left the bathroom to go back to her sister.

"You're late," Worse said, patting her ornate chignon as Cedes came into the room.

"Bite me," Cedes said, and went to stand beside Bree. "Hey, baby, what's up?"

"Nothing," Bree said. "I'm just... glad you're here."

"Yes, I am in all my glory," Cedes said, holding her arms out to show off her gaping corset.

"That corset's not tight enough," Janette said and turned her around. "Honestly, Cedes." She untied the bow at Cedes's neckline and then began to tighten the laces, working up from the bottom.

"Uh," Cedes said, as her lungs constricted. "Mother." She put her hand on the back of Bree's chair to stabilize herself as Janette yanked on the ribbons. "I have to be able to ... breathe ... during ... the ceremony." Janette gave the ribbons a final excruciating pull at the top, tied them with a knot that would have had Boy Scouts staring in awe, and stood back to consider her work.

"Well, it's the best I can do," Janette said, and Cedes thought, _That pretty much sums up our entire relationship_, and turned away from her, her hand on her side, trying to breathe and see Bree at the same time.

"Bree?" Cedes said, and when Bree didn't say anything, she leaned over to see her sister's face, constricting her lungs even more.

Bree was staring into the mirror, her eyes huge, the line of her beautiful jaw rigid, and Cedes forgot she couldn't breathe.

"Bree? Are you all right?"

"Fine," Bree said faintly, not taking her eyes off the mirror.

"You look beautiful," Cedes said. On Bree, even the corset looked right. "Swanlike," Cedes added, hoping to get a flicker

"She's just got pre-wedding jitters," Wet said as she settled her wreath of ivy and white baby orchids on her smooth, blond hair. She looked miserable.

Worse nudged Cedes aside. "Go put your wreath on straight." Her own wreath of cornflowers and orchids was perfectly centered on her head, balanced in back on her chignon.

"Oh, Cedes," Janette said. "Your wreath."

Cedes picked up her wreath of lavender and orchids and slapped it on her head. At least it smelled good. She jammed a couple of hairpins in to hold it, watching Bree in the mirror the whole time. Bree met her eyes and sat up straighter. "Go away."

"Okay," Cedes said.

"Not you," Bree said. "Everybody but you."

"What?" Worse said, stopping with her hands in midair, reaching for Bree's wreath.

"Bree," Janette said, shocked.

Cedes took a look at Bree's frozen face. "Sister time. We'll see you all outside in a minute."

"Hey," Worse said. "I'm a bridesmaid —" Then she saw Bree's face and stopped.

"Out," Cedes said, jerking her thumb toward the door.

"Well, I'm not going," Janette said. "This is my daughter's wedding."

"So go to it," Cedes said. "Weren't the pews all supposed to have flowers?"

"Honestly, Cedes," Janette said and stopped. "Of course they're all supposed to have flowers."

"Better check," Cedes said, and Janette took off for the chapel.

Wet picked up her bouquet of orchids, leaned over, and kissed Bree's cheek. "You look wonderful," she whispered. "You look like a size two!" She handed Worse's bouquet to her and pushed her toward the door, and Worse looked back, not so cocky anymore.

Then Cedes and Bree were alone.

Cedes leaned against the counter and tried to work her fingers under the edge of the corset to gain a millimeter more of air so she could say what needs to be said. "Okay," she said. "This is it. You tell me what's wrong now, or I'm stopping this wedding."

"I want a Krispy Kreme doughnut," Bree said, the threat of a sob under the words.

"I'll get you one," Cedes said, regrouping. "I'll go out and—"

"I can't have one," Bree said. "There are twelve grams of fat in every Krispy Kreme."

"Well, yes," Cedes said, "but I'm thinking since it's your wedding day—"

"Everything is perfect," Bree said.

"Not even close," Cedes said. "Listen, if you want out of this wedding, I'll get the car keys from Sam, and you and I can go back to the apartment and drink champagne and eat many Krispy Kremes."

"Want out?" Bree straightened. "No. No."

"Okay," Cedes said. "But if you change your mind, I'm not kidding about the car keys and the doughnuts."

"I won't change my mind," Bree said. "This is my fairy tale wedding."

"Then it's time to go," Cedes said, hoping action might jog something loose in Bree's brain. Bree stood up and Cedes held out her arms again to show her the corset.

"So what do you think?"

"This was a dumb idea," Bree said, her voice unsteady as she looked at Cedes. "Why would I put you in a corset?"

"So I'd have a waistline," Cedes said.

"You already have a perfect waistline for your body type," Bree said. "It's not a tiny waistline, but there's nothing wrong with it." She stood looking into Cedes' eyes, breathtakingly beautiful, cold as ice.

"Okay," Cedes said, taking her hand. "You have to tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," Bree said. "Everything is perfect."

Worse knocked on the door and poked her head in. "Are you ready?" she asked, sounding more tentative than Cedes had ever heard her. "Because we're supposed to be lining up."

Bree ignored her, and Cedes said, "We'll be right out."

Worse opened the door farther. "You look wonderful, Bree."

Bree picked up her bouquet.

"Wreath," Cedes said, and Bree reached down for the wreath of white orchids and roses and slapped it on her head, the fingertip-length veil askew. "Oh. Okay. I can just pin—" But Bree was already crossing the room.

"I'll fix it," Worse said, giving Cedes her usual "you're impossible" stare.

"I don't think you can," Cedes said, and picked up her bouquet and followed Bree out.


	16. Chapter 14

**The Wedding Chapter is a chapter that to me is too much for words. Most of this is from Jennifer Crusie's mind and I was like WTH just brace yourselves. There are only two chapters left. Thanks for all of you still hanging in there. I own nothing much in this chapter, but I do own up to all my mistakes.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

The setting sun flooded the vestibule, but Bree's face was blank and cold under her now perfect wreath and veil. George stood beside her, uncomfortable in his tuxedo, darting anxious glances at her. He frowned a question at Cedes, and she shrugged. She felt for him, but he was low on her list of people to save at the moment.

Kitty AKA Wet stood in front of them beside the arch, and then the processional started, and she gave her bustle one final twitch, sniffed, broke into a rigid smile, took a step forward, and turned into the chapel. Worse moved forward, stood counting until it was her turn, blew a kiss to Bree, took a step, smiled a broad smile, and turned into the chapel.

Cedes looked back at Bree. "You are my sister, and I am with you no matter what. If you want out of this, I will get you out'''

"Cedes?" her father said, startled, and Bree shook her head.

"Okay." Cedes picked up the count from the music, plastered a smile on her face, took a step, and turned into the chapel.

Something caught at her bustle and left her stuck, leaning into the archway in mid-step. She looked behind her and saw Bree's hand clutching the lavender chiffon ruffles on her butt.

"Bree?" her father said, bewilderment in his voice.

Cedes stepped back. "Daddy, go smile in the archway so they know everything's all right." She pried Bree's hand off her ruffles and towed her out onto the church steps into the waning light. "Talk."

Bree's bouquet trembled in her hands. "Jake slept with my bridesmaid."

"Kitty?" Cedes said, not surprised but sick just the same. "I knew she—"

"Worse," Bree said.

"How could it be worse?" Cedes said and then the other shoe dropped. "Rachel?" Bree nodded.

"Oh," Cedes said, trying to think of what to say as her rage rose. "Oh, honey." She put her arm around Bree.

"Tell me this was before he proposed to you and not—"

"Last night," Bree whispered, and Cedes took a deep breath, corset or not.

" Son of a fucking bitch."

"Thank you," Bree said and sniffed.

"That whore, I swear I'll rip out every hair on her goddamn head." Cedes held Bree tighter. "I'll nail her fucking chignon to the church door, the miserable bitch. And Dad will take Jake apart. He's been wanting to for months."

Bree sniffed back a sob.

"We'll take care of you," Cedes said. "You are not alone. Holly and Marley—" She broke off, realizing that flaunting her friends wasn't the best move now, trying to imagine how she'd feel if either of one them betrayed her if Holly slept with Sam, and it was incomprehensible, it couldn't happen, they'd never—

"I watched you and Sam last night," Bree said, tears blurring her eyes, "and you were so perfect for each other, you were just you, laughing and whispering together, you didn't have to be anybody else, thin or anything, he loves you just for being you, and I wanted to talk to Jake, I wanted to be that with him, too, so when you fell asleep, I drove over to his apartment, and they were in the bedroom." Her face crumpled. "They weren't even on the bed. "

Cedes put both arms around her and held her close. "And Rachel's blowing you kisses today. The skanky ass whore."

"They don't know I know," Bree said into her shoulder. "They didn't see me. I backed out."

"That was very mature and un-mother-like of you," Cedes said, gritting her teeth. "I would have put both of their blood on the walls. Okay, I'll go stop the wedding—"

"No," Bree said, straightening fast. Her pearl-studded corset rose and fell as she sucked in air. "No, no. No."

"What?" Cedes said.

"No," Bree said. "I'm ready to go."

"Okay, I admire how you've handled this," Cedes said, trying to sound calm, "but I think actually marrying the son of a bitch may be carrying maturity too far ."

"I have to," Bree said, breathless. "It's all planned. There are presents. Marley put pearls on a cake."

"I'll eat the cake," Cedes said. "I'll send the presents back. I'll even maim the groom for you."

"No," Bree said. "It wasn't... He wasn't... It was just pre-wedding jitters. We'll be fine."

"Bree." Cedes took as deep a breath as possible and tried to sound calm. "Pre-wedding jitters mean he panics at the bachelor party, gets drunk, and maybe goes a little too far with a random stripper. It doesn't mean he fucks your other best friend the night before the wedding. He has slept with all three of you now and that is just disgusting."

Bree shook her head. "No, no. Not everybody finds a prince. Jake is a good man. He just... panicked. I'm getting married." She swallowed. "I just had to tell somebody. It's a relief to tell somebody."

"Oh." Cedes felt sick. "Okay. But if you change your mind at any time, in the middle of the ceremony, in the middle of your honeymoon, in the middle of the birth of your first child, I will be there to help you leave. You say the word and we're gone. You are not alone." She tried to take another breath and her corset fought back. "Listen, are you sure? Because I—"

Bree nodded. "I just had to tell somebody. I'm okay."

"Wonderful," Cedes said, "I'm not." She waited for another minute for her sister to back down, but Bree walked past her into the vestibule, leaving her nothing to do but follow.

Cedes smiled at her father, who looked crazed, took her place in the arch, and started down the aisle, vaguely aware that Anthony and Lucy Quinn were in a pew together looking tense, that Marley and Holly were in the third pew from the altar sending her "What the hell?" looks, that Sam was in the second row staring fascinated at her neckline, and that Jake-the-bastard was up at the front looking annoyed._ Die, you treacherous scum-sucking pig_, she thought, and that was so inadequate she began to think of other things, not realizing she was scowling until she saw Sam's eyes widen and Jake take a step back.

She smoothed out her face. Okay, there was that "show just cause or hold your peace" moment for stopping weddings, the escape clause. She could say something then. But if she did, she'd ruin Bree's wedding, and she had a feeling the wedding was more important to her sister than the marriage. And even if it wasn't, it was Bree's choice. She was not going to be her mother, running Bree's life for her. She took her place beside Worse at the front of the church and thought about smacking her in the face with her bouquet. Maybe she could say she'd slipped. A couple of times.

Worse sighed and shook her head at Cedes, pointing at her own wreath.

_Skanky ass bitch whore_, Cedes thought and straightened her wreath. The wedding march kicked in, and Cedes turned and watched as Bree started down the aisle, a Hollywood vision with the sun shining behind her like a blessing. Her face was lost, and Cedes's heart broke for her.

Cedes turned away and saw Sam frowning at her. He mouthed "What?" at her and she shook her head, almost in tears. Not even he could fix this one.

Bree reached the front of the church, the ceremony began, and after a while, people began to stir in their seats. _They know something's wrong,_ Cedes thought. They weren't getting that happiness buzz people were supposed to get at weddings. Even Bree's bustle looked tragic.

Then the minister said, "If any man can show just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak," and Cedes took a step closer to her sister.

Bree turned to look at her and Cedes met her eyes. "Do it."

After a moment, the minister nodded and began the vows.

Bree reached out and clutched Cedes' arm and whispered, "I do," and Cedes sighed in relief.

"Not yet, dear," the minister whispered back.

No," Cedes said to him. "That's not what she means." She nodded at Bree again. "Do it."

Bree swallowed. "I object," she said, but her voice was so faint that the minister leaned forward.

"She objects," Cedes said loudly.

"To what?" Jake said.

"To you, you traitorous jackass," Cedes said, and heard a gasp from the front pews. _Loud voice, loud voice_, she told herself. Not your loud voice. Then she looked at Jake again, and thought, _Hell, yes, my loud voice_.

"I object," Bree said, her voice up to room temperature again. She turned so she was facing the pews. "I object to the groom sleeping with my bridesmaid last night. I object to the groom being a—" Her voice broke.

"Cheating, scum-sucking, nasty no good dog," Cedes said to Jake behind Bree's back, definitely in her loud voice.

"Yes," Bree said and walked down the steps, her bouquet quivering.

"Also, I am so glad you got caught because you are nothing but a tired ass irresponsible player who has lousy tastes in cheap nasty looking whores when you had the real deal in my sister," Cedes said to Jake, and started down the chapel steps after her sister.

Jake caught her arm, and said, "Wait a minute —" and she swung back to let him have it, and then Sam was between them, shouldering Jake aside.

Behind them Wet said to Worse, "You slept with Jake?," and then somebody tapped Jake on the shoulder just as Wet lunged for Worse, and Jake turned around and met George's fist as Wet yanked hard on Worse's chignon, and Worse went ass over elbow into the front pew.

Sam caught Jake by the shoulders just before he hit the ground, and they both looked up to see Janette, coming at them, exquisite in pearl gray. Sam dropped Jake in shock.

"You're a horrible man," she said to Jake and kicked him in the ribs with her pointed Louboutins.

"Mother," Cedes said.

Janette said, "Thirty-seven damn years," kicking him on every word until Cedes pulled her away. She staggered sideways and ended up facing George, who was trying to get past Sam to hit Jake again. "And you, too," Janette said and smacked him in the head with her purse.

George put his hands up to fend her off and said, "What did I do?" and she stormed down the aisle, her head held high.

Behind George's back, Wet said, "You bastard," to Jake and began to hit him in the face with her bouquet while Worse tried to crawl out of the pew.

"I have to go to Bree," Cedes said to Sam. "Step on his head, will you?"

"Go," Sam said, and the last thing she saw as she turned for the door was Sam trying to block George from hitting Jake again while Wet whaled on him with her orchids.

Sam later found Cedes at the reception since Bree had insisted on going to meet anybody who might show up. They were sitting in the mostly deserted ballroom with Holly, Marley, and an entirely too cheerful Wet, while Ryder ferried champagne back and forth and Janette consoled Bree with the news that all men were cheating scum.

"Mother," Cedes said, and Sam took her hand and pulled her out into the hall with him. "My mother is insane," Cedes said to him.

"You just noticed?" Sam said, trying not to be distracted by her bulging neckline. "That looks like it hurts."

"It does," Cedes said. "I've spent the entire day in bondage." She peered back through the archway. "Look at Wet. She's in there laughing and to think that I ever felt sorry for that wench. Did you need me for something?"

"Yes," Sam said, getting a little dizzy as her cleavage rose and fell. "Especially now that you brought up bondage. When can you take that off?"

"I think I could lose it now, except the knots are so tight I can't get them undone." She ran her finger around the top of the corset, and Sam thought, _let me do that_. "It's killing me."

"Wait," Sam said and fished in his pocket for his pocketknife.

He slipped the knife under the bow and sliced through the ribbon, and Cedes took a deep breath as the rest of the corset began to unlace itself from the pressure. "Oh, Lord, that feels good."

Sam watched the rise and fall of her loosened corset. "Looks good, too." Even though he knew better, he drew his finger down the slope of her breast and felt the need for her that had been simmering for weeks flare up again. If he didn't have her soon, he was going to lose his mind.

She said, "Hey," and caught his hand.

"Not my fault," he said, close to her mouth. "You were flaunting." Her mouth melted under his, warm with familiarity, and her breath came faster as his hand curled around the firmness of her breast. "Oh," she said, and he kissed his way down the smooth curve of her neck and felt her sigh under his hand. "Oh, that feels so good. But I have to—"

"I know," he said, holding on to her. "I shouldn't have—" He kissed her again, wanting her so much that he couldn't let go.

"Yes, you should have," Cedes said, against his mouth. "But Bree—"

"Right," Sam said, remembering his mission. "That's what I came to tell you. One of the ushers has Jake out in the car. Does Bree want to see him before he goes? He wants to apologize."

"Hell, no," Cedes said, pulling away from him. "What can he possibly say?"

"'I'm the biggest cliche in bad wedding stories'?" Sam said, missing her warmth. "If it helps, the groomsmen and the ushers are disgusted with him, too."

"I hate him," Cedes said, looking back into the ballroom.

"How is she?" Sam said, following her eyes to her sister, feeling guilty that he was having carnal thoughts while Bree was in misery.

"I think she's almost relieved," Cedes said, watching her. "Not happy, and she's going to cry, but I think she knew she wanted the wedding and not Jake."

"Very sensible of her," Sam said. "Who in their right minds would want Jake?"

Cedes stretched up and kissed him. "I'm staying with her tonight."

"I figured," Sam said, hating it anyway. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. "I want you, Mercedes."

"I'm free tomorrow night," she said, smiling up at him. "Go get rid of that jerk and come back for champagne."

"Be right back," Sam said, and kissed her again, surprised all over again that it was so easy, that everything with her had become so easy. That can't be right, he thought, but he grinned anyway as he went to tell the ushers they could remove Jake.

On his way back from the car, Sam ran into Anthony.

"I think the reception's over, Anthony," Sam said, trying not to snarl. "You can go home now."

"I can't," Anthony said, looking noble. "There's something you should know."

_Oh, hell,_ Sam thought and said, "What?"

"That bet we made," Anthony said, "the one where you could get Cedes into bed in a month."

"What?" Sam looked at him, confused. "What bet? We didn't make that bet. That was you, being drunk and reckless."

"Cedes knows," Anthony said, and Sam felt a chill. "She overheard it that night, that's why she went out with you, to pay us both back and to get a date to this fiasco. They all knew, Holly, Marley, her sister, she told everybody. They've all been laughing at us."

The hallway suddenly seemed too narrow, not enough air, and it was much too cold for June.

"I had to tell you because if she knows about it, the bet's off. You never had a chance to win. She's been playing you the whole time."

"No," Sam said, his throat tight. "She wouldn't." The familiar slug of shame and self-loathing hit him— how stupid can you be—even while common sense told him this was Anthony making trouble, that Cedes wouldn't do that—

"Face it," Anthony said, clapping him on the shoulder. "She made fools of us. Well, you more than me because I wasn't trying to get her into bed, but I feel pretty stupid, too."

Sam looked at him with loathing. "At last, some self-knowledge." _She knew._ _She thinks I'm stupi_d.

"Hey." Anthony held his hands up. "Don't turn on me. I'm not the one who's been making you look stupid for a month."

Sam flinched and then turned and walked away, back into the reception hall. It wasn't true, Cedes wasn't like that, she wouldn't do that, except that suddenly a lot of things that had been inexplicable now made sense.

He walked across the almost-deserted reception hall to where Cedes was trying to shield Bree from Janette. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" he said.

Cedes looked up from Bree and said, "Now isn't—"

"Now," Sam said, and Cedes' eyes widened and she nodded. "I'll be right back, baby," she said to Bree, and let him draw her out into the hall, casting anxious looks back to her sister as she went.

"Is it Jake?" she said when they were in the hall where she could still keep an eye on Bree. "Did he—"

"Why did you go to dinner with me that first night?" Sam said.

"What?" Cedes said, so surprised she stopped looking at Bree.

"Tell me the truth."

Cedes straightened. "I went..." She looked away from him and shook her head. "I went because you made a bet with Anthony you could get me into bed in a month, and I needed a date for this wedding. And then we went out and you were so slick I knew I couldn't stand that for three weeks and I thanked you for dinner and went home. And why we have to talk about this now is beyond me."

"Why in hell would you keep going out with me if you thought I'd do that?" Sam said, a month's worth of frustration morphing into anger. "For the sport? Was it funny?"

"No," Cedes said, sounding annoyed. "That's why I kept turning you down. Could we discuss this la—"

"So," Sam said. "You turned me down to make a fool of me, and you and Marley and Holly sat around and laughed about it."

"No," Cedes said, exasperated. "We thought you were slime. It wasn't funny at all."

"Ah," Sam said, nodding at her. "This is why Holly kept hitting me."

"Yes. But I don't care." She spat the last word from between her teeth. "It doesn't matter."

"You care," Sam said, grimly. "You're mad as hell. That's why you've been playing me, making me crazy for you, making me look like—"

"Hey," Cedes said, pointing her finger at him. "I have been completely honest with you."

"You never asked me about the bet," Sam said.

"Yeah, I did," Cedes said, folding her arms. "And you ducked it every time I asked."

"No, you didn't ask." Sam folded his arms. "And you know how I know? Because I'd have told you I didn't make that bet."

"I was standing right there," Cedes said.

"Then you didn't listen very well," Sam said. "I told him no."

"You said, 'Piece of cake,'" Cedes snapped.

"I have never said 'Piece of cake' in my life," Sam said. "It's a stupid thing to say." He took a deep breath and thought, Fuck it. "How stupid do you think I am?" he said savagely, and Cedes froze. "How stupid does everybody think I am?"

"Not stupid," she said, watching him warily now. "What's going on?"

"They all thought I'd made that bet with a sleaze like Anthony." Sam shook his head at the breadth of her betrayal. "Because you told them I made that bet. And they watched you play me, and like a fool, I fell for it."

"You did make it," Cedes said, but she sounded uncertain. "Look, I didn't think you were stupid, I thought you were . . . awful. But then you weren't awful so I... Where is this coming from? You know how I feel about you. I love you. The bet doesn't matter—"

"It doesn't matter?" Sam said. " How stupid are you?"

"Hey," Cedes said, her patience was up. "Okay, look, I know this is pushing all your buttons, but get a grip. I love you, you know I love you, but I don't have time to babysit you right now—"

"Babysit me?"Sam clenched his jaw to keep from screaming at her, because she'd betrayed him and because he still wanted her, desperately. _Get out of this,_ he thought, and said, "Well, you'll never have to babysit me again."

"What?" Then she started to nod, her face twisted in anger. "Oh. I get it. Of course. You're running. You bastard. You got what you wanted, I said 'I love you,' the game is over, and now you're out the door. I knew you'd do this. I knew you'd do this ."

"This is not about me," Sam said, not meeting her eyes.

"Oh, please" Cedes snapped. "This is all about you. One hundred percent of your relationships end with you running away. This is you grabbing any excuse to get—"

"Hey," Hunter said, and they both turned to see him standing in the doorway, looking madder than Sam had ever seen him.

"I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but whatever it is, it's not as important as what that kid in there is going through. You've got the rest of your lives to fight, she needs you now."

"Tell Cedes I didn't make that damn bet with Anthony to have sex with her," Sam said.

Hunter looked at Cedes, exasperated. "He didn't make that bet."

"I heard him make the bet," Cedes said. "Anthony said that he'd have to get the gray-checkered suit into bed in a month and he said, 'Piece of ... cake.'" She looked from Hunter to Sam. "Oh."

"I said 'Piece of cake,'" Hunter said. "I was wrong I shouldn't have said that and I shouldn't have objectified you like that. But right now I don't care about the past. Fight about it later. Right now, get your ass back in there and help your sister. Your mother took her champagne away because it has too many calories, and that damn bridesmaid in the green dress keeps laughing."

"You're right," Cedes said, stepping toward the door. "But we won't be fighting about it later because Samuel has decided it's time to go."

"You're kidding me," Hunter said, looking at them both with contempt. "You two are the biggest babies I've ever seen."

"What?" Cedes said, stopping.

"Here's the short version," Hunter said to Cedes. "You were a man-hating word that rhymes with a witch and he still is a woman-fearing coward." He looked at Sam. "Get over that, will you?"

"The hell with both of you," Cedes said and went back to her sister, as Sam turned on Hunter.

"They're all like that," Janette was saying to Bree when Cedes got back to them, seething. "You can't trust any of them." She gestured with the champagne glass she was holding. "They tell you they love you and then—"

Cedes grabbed the glass out of her hand. "Here," she said, handing it to Bree. "We're drinking about twelve bottles of this tonight, so get started."

"Do you know how many calories—" Janette began.

"Listen, you," Cedes said to her. "You're going home and throwing out every damn fashion magazine in the house. You're going cold turkey, it's the only thing that's going to save you."

Janette straightened. "Just because you won't lose the weight, doesn't mean Bree has to be fat."

"I'm not and never have been fat, Mother," Cedes said. "If you keep criticizing me, I won't stick around to hear that shit from you any longer. Just because you are miserable doesn't mean, it's okay for you to make everybody else miserable by monitoring what Bree and I put in our mouths. It's our bodies, we are grown, ass women. Get a fucking clue. But while we're on the subject, I don't see where not eating for fifty-five years has made you particularly happy. Go home and eat something, for Christ's sake." She looked around. "Where are those damn cake boxes?"

"I'll get them," Ryder said, and went fast.

"I think that's very sensible," Wet said, beaming at Cedes.

"And you," Cedes said. "Go someplace else and gloat. In fact, go find Jake. You deserve each other. He's a selfish bastard and you love to be messy. You are the definition of a hot mess. I doubt you even have a boyfriend. I bet you have been screwing Jake all along and only beat Rachel because she has been getting dicked down by him as well and you were mad and jealous as hell."

"That's not fair," Wet said, back to her familiar whine.

"Hit the road, Wet," Holly said. "You've been laughing ever since you stopped hitting Worse and Jake. If you're not going to be a comfort, have the decency to be an empty space."

"Well, at least I'm not Tart," Wet said and stalked off.

"Did she just call me a tart?" Holly asked Marley.

Cedes sat down next to Bree in Wet's vacated chair.

"Here's what we're going to do," she said, taking her hand. "We're going to get those cake boxes and a case of the champagne, and we're going back to my place."

"Okay," Bree said, her voice breaking again.

"And we're going to eat cake and get drunk," Cedes said.

"Oh, Cedes," Janette said. "It'll take you weeks to work off those calories."

Cedes looked at her mother for a moment and thought, _This is what Bree lives with every damn day; no wonder my sister was half starved and couldn't help but be a raging bitch who didn't know her friends and boyfriend were screwing her over._ "I am finished talking to you-you sorry excuse for a mother. Now I am talking to Bree, not you."

"And then," she said continuing to talk to Bree, "since you have the week off for your honeymoon, I'm going to take the week off, too, and we're going to go house-hunting."

Bree stopped crying. "House-hunting?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "I'm going to buy a great two bedroom Arts and Crafts bungalow. And you're going to move in with me."

"I am?" Bree said, sitting up a little.

"Yes," Cedes said. "You've lived with the calorie police for too long."

"That's ridiculous," Janette said. "She is not going to move."

"But there are some rules," Cedes said ignoring her crazy mother realizing nothing she said was going to penetrate her brain, and Bree swallowed and nodded. "There will always be butter in the refrigerator. There will be no soundtracks from Julia Roberts' movies. And from now on," she said, looking toward the door where Sam was glaring at Hunter, "we only date ugly men."

Bree was nodding at Cedes. "And I'll get out of the way on Thursday nights."

"Why?" Cedes said, mystified.

"So you guys can have your If Dinner," she said, and Cedes realized that the worst thing that had happened to Bree wasn't that she'd lost Jake, it was that she'd lost her best friends. She thought again of what it would be like if Marley and Holly had betrayed her, and she lost her breath at how far beyond horrible that would be. As bad as losing Sam.

"You'll come, too," Marley said, putting her arm around Bree.

"Hell, yes," Holly said, as Ryder came back with a tray of cake boxes and the cake topper. She ripped the bride and groom off the cake top and put it in front of Bree and said, "Pay attention, Little Stats, we're about to have a moment." Bree looked up and Holly stomped on the head of the groom, shattering it into dust. "Now," she said. "He is officially history. And if there's a vengeful God, Jake has a splitting headache."

"I think you can count on that," Ryder said. "He got hit a lot."

"Good," Holly said. "Now we're going back to Cedes' and getting so drunk that we are going to be tore up from the floor up."

Bree nodded her head and looked at Cedes through her tears. "Can I wear your bunny slippers?"

"You can have my bunny slippers," Cedes said, thinking of Sam in furious misery. She looked toward the door and saw him standing there, watching her, and then Hunter was in her way, spreading out his hands, saying to Holly, "Nice job on the cake topper, ace. I suppose you had to kill the groom," and Holly said, "Defend him and die," and Hunter said, "No, he was an asshole," and Bree laughed and then cried again.

Out in the hall, Sam turned and Cedes saw Lucy Quinn standing behind him. He stopped for a moment, and then he left, and Lucy Quinn went with him. _Right. You wouldn't stay to help because it's not about you, is it, buddy_? Cedes thought and then shoved him out of her mind and turned back to Bree.

* * *

"I'm a coward?" Sam had said to Hunter when Cedes had gone, pleased to be fighting with somebody he could hit.

"I can't believe you're running away from this one," Hunter said. "Hell, Sam, you're thirty-five, aren't you tired of that shit by now?"

"You're thirty-five, too," Sam said grimly.

"And I have never in my life looked at a woman the way you look at Cedes," Hunter said. "I'd be pissed at her, that all-men-are-pigs bit is a pain in the ass, but I'd tell her that, I wouldn't walk away from her. What's wrong with you?"

"This is not about me," Sam said.

"Jesus," Hunter said and turned back to the ballroom.

"Where are you going?" Sam said.

Hunter shook his head. "Back to where there's real trouble. We're all in there. Why aren't you?" Then he walked away and Sam looked past him to where Cedes had her arms around Bree, and Marley was leaning close to them, and Ryder was holding a tray of cake in one hand and patting Bree on the back with the other, and Holly was smashing something with her foot, and as Hunter got closer, he spread his hands out, and Bree looked up and gave him a watery smile and Sam knew he was clowning again, doing his bit. _Fuck,_ he thought. _I should be in there._ Then Cedes looked up and saw him, her face set and stormy, and he flinched and thought, _The hell with you,_ and turned, furious and miserable to see Lucy Quinn, looking lovelier than ever.

"Are you all right?" she said.

"No," Sam said.

She smiled at him. "I know a place we can get a drink."

"Where's that?" Sam said.

"My place," Lucy Quinn said.

"Let's go," Sam said, and left, knowing Cedes was watching.

* * *

Sam spent most of Monday fuming about what a bitch Cedes had been, and Tuesday wasn't much better. It didn't help that in the same two days, Lucy Quinn had called twice to talk him into the drink he'd turned down when he'd dropped her off at her place, every client had become intensely worrisome, and his partners kept looking at him as if he'd been drowning puppies. Worst of all, he missed Cedes so much, wanted her so much, that it was making him sick. The crowning touch to his day was his mother, calling him at work to find out if he was seeing Lucy Quinn again.

"No," he said. "I'm never going to see her again, so get off my ass about her."

"Samuel," his mother said, in a voice that would have stopped him cold any other day.

"In fact," he said, "since I'm such an overwhelming disappointment to you, I'm never going to see you again, either."

"Samuel?" his mother said, a new note in her voice.

"Forget it," Sam said and hung up.

Hunter came over and unplugged his phone. "You get this back when you call her," he said. "Until then, you don't talk to people."

"I'm never calling her again," Sam said. "She's been a pain in the ass my whole life and I'm done with her."

"Not your mother, you dumbass," Hunter said. "Cedes."

"She's been a pain in my ass for a month and I'm done with her, too," Sam said. "The hell with both of them."

"That's very mature," Hunter said, sounding just like Cedes.

Ryder shook his head and went back to work, and Sam ignored them both to savagely edit a seminar packet.

When he got home, he threw his suit coat on the couch, picked up his Glenlivet and then stopped as Elvis began to sing "She" next door.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he said and slammed the Glenlivet down.

When he pounded on Santana's door, a strange woman answered, dark-haired, a little below medium height. "Oh," he said. "I thought... Santana ..."

"Oh, she's here." The woman smiled at him, a sweet smile that reminded him of Cedes, her eyes huge in her round face as she stepped back. "Santana?"

Sam looked past her to Santana, carrying two ruby goblets out of the kitchen.

"Sam!" she said, smiling. "This is Sheila. Sheila, this is my next-door neighbor, Sam." Her smile widened and she jerked her head toward the stereo. "First date music."

"Oh," Sam said, taking a step back. "Hell, I'm sorry ..."

"Don't you just love Elvis?" Sheila said.

"Yeah," Sam said. "Good for you, San. I'll see you later."

"Stay for a drink," Santana said, with a look that telegraphed, _Get lost._

"Can't stay," Sam said. "I have to ..." He jerked his head toward his apartment, at a loss for what he might have to do over there besides fume.

"Is Cedes there?" Santana said, putting the glasses down on the breakfast bar. "Maybe later we could—"

"No," Sam said, his rage back on the surface again. "Cedes is not there."

Santana stopped, reading his face. "Oh, no. What did you do?"

"Strangely enough, nothing," Sam said. "Why do you assume—"

"I don't care," Santana said. "Get her back."

"It's done," Sam said.

"No, it is not," Santana said. "You really lost something this time."

"This is not about me," Sam said.

"Yes, it is," Santana said. "This time it is. What happened?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope. Not interesting." He nodded at Sheila. "Very nice to meet you." He turned to go but Santana grabbed the back of his shirt in her fist and yanked.

"Sit down and tell me everything," she said. "Or I will track you back to your apartment and bitch at you until you tell me there."

Fifteen minutes later she said, "Well, it's a toss-up as to which of the two of you is dumber."

"Hey," Sam said.

"You're desperately in love with each other and you're playing footsie with it. Do you know how rare what you have is?"

"Christ, I hope so," Sam said. "I'd hate to think there was an epidemic of this garbage."

"Stop it," Santana said. "You want her back."

"Why would I—"

"Stop it!" Santana said. "You want her back."

Sam sat back on the couch and the memory of Cedes he'd been fighting for two days came back. He put his head in his hands. "Oh, Christ, I want her back. Which shows you how stupid I really am."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, call her," Santana said. "Tell her you're sorry."

Sam jerked his head up. "Hey, I'm the injured party here ."

"Yeah," Santana said. "That been keeping you warm at night, has it? Call her. Tell her that you want to talk to her tomorrow night. Take a nice bottle of wine, tell her that you love her, work out this non-problem, and live happily ever after."

"Why tomorrow?" Sam said, confused. "If I'm going to apologize for something I did not do, I could go over there now—"

"Because by then you'll have lost the bet," Santana said.

"I didn't make that damn bet!" Sam yelled.

Sheila moved a little farther away from him on the couch.

"Stop yelling," Santana said. "It doesn't matter. You hit her where it hurts."

"What—"

"She's not considered beautiful by magazine standards," Santana said over him. "She's not thin. She knows that some people who see you with her wonder how she got you."

"That's not true," Sam said. "She's amazing and more beautiful than words can convey."

"Right," Santana said. "We see that, but there are many people who don't. Including, I believe, her ex-boyfriend who dumped her and then tried to make that bet with you."

"Ouch," Sheila said.

"And then you come along, gorgeous and perfect, and you convince her you love her—"

"I do love her, damn it," Sam said.

"—only it turns out you made a bet—"

Sam stood up. "I did not make that bet—"

"—that you could take her to dinner," Santana went on.

Sam sat down.

"And she thought you were trying to get her into bed for a bet, and then in the end, when things got tense, instead of standing by her, you walk out with your gorgeous ex-girlfriend."

"Not good," Sheila said.

"Oh, hell." Sam put his head in his hands again. "I can't believe I fell for this. I can't believe I let that asshole Anthony Rashad do this. I am stupid."

"Only this once," Santana said. "It's going to be okay. All you have to do is throw the bet. Big deal, you lose a little pride and ten bucks."

"Ten thousand bucks," Sam said.

"Whoa," Sheila said, straightening. "This is like Netflix."

"You bet Anthony ten thousand dollars you could get Cedes into bed?" Santana said, incredulous.

Sam looked at the ceiling. "Does anybody here listen to me?"

"He didn't make the bet," Sheila told Santana.

"Thank you," Sam said.

"Everybody knows about the bet," Santana says. "It exists in everybody's minds and if you sleep with her before ... when is the bet up?"

"Tomorrow at nine, nine-thirty, I don't know," Sam said, trying to remember when they'd made the damn thing. Hadn't made the damn thing. Christ, even he was doing it.

"Is she worth losing ten thousand dollars?"

"Hell, yes," Sam said.

"Well, there you are. Go call her and tell her you'll see her after you lose the bet." Santana folded her arms, implacable. "Don't make me come over there and do it for you."

"Do it," Sheila said to Sam. "It's romantic in a perverse sort of way."

"Thank you," Sam said to her. "On that note, I'm going home." He got up and left, ignoring Santana's "Sam,".

Santana was wrong, he told himself as he poured himself another Scotch, but the thought didn't have much conviction. He closed his eyes and thought of Cedes and tried to remind himself that it was all treachery, but he kept hearing her say, "I love you," and he knew it was true.

"Oh fuck," he said and when the doorbell rang, he yanked it open, prepared to slam the door in Santana's face if she was going to yap about Cedes anymore.

It was Quinn, looking hot as hell in her green halter top and short black skirt. She tilted her head up at him and her glossy blond hair swung back. "I know you're upset," she said, softly. "I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm all right," he said, as she stepped closer.

"No, you're not," she said. "She hit you hard." She held up a bottle of Glenlivet. "Come on, talk about it. You'll feel better."

_She'll do anything I ask_, Sam thought. _And the world is full of women like her. Why do I need Cedes_?

Lucy Quinn smiled up at him, lovely and warm. "Do I get to come in?"

"No, you are never welcomed here again, so don't come back or I am getting a restraining order," Sam said. "I have to make a phone call."


	17. Chapter 15

**Almost at the end of this story. One more chapter to go. Creepier and Creep are here amid some bestie intervention. Will Samcedes ever have samcex? This chapter took forever to rework and then edit. I left some of the original author's content but I altered it quite a bit. Standard Disclaimer. Please forgive all my mistakes and yes this is going to be the last completed work for me this summer. I will post the last chapter later today or early tomorrow morning. Thanks for staying on this particular journey with me.**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Lucy Quinn said, "You don't really mean that Sam. I know you love me. I love you and I can wait until you are ready to commit," and he remembered Cedes saying, "You get to know the real us and then you leave us."

Lucy Quinn smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes, and he thought, _Oh, hell_. He shook his head at her. "I'm sorry. Somebody explained to me what I've done to you. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to hurt anybody, but I never meant to marry you, either."

Lucy Quinn took a deep breath and nodded. "That's all right, I can wait—"

"There's somebody else," Sam said, as gently as he could. "I'm sorry, but I'm in love with somebody else."

She flinched. "No. You love me."

"I never said that. You know that."

"Yes, but you do." Her hands gripped the bottle tighter. "You don't realize it, but you do. We're perfect for each other."

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't see how desperate she was.

"It's Cedes," Lucy Quinn said. "I know it's Cedes. Look, she's a nice woman, but she's not me."

"I know," Sam said. "That's the problem. I have never lied to you." Lucy Quinn's face twisted, and he said, "I'm sorry, Quinn. I tried to be nice to you, but you don't want nice. I could never love you even if there was no Cedes. You are a self-delusional psychotic stalking narcissist who has probably been working with Anthony to make sure Cedes and I are not together. And if you show up where I am again, I will have a restraining order placed on you if you get within one hundred feet of me. Now leave and don't ever return or you will be going to jail." He slammed the door in her face and leaned against the door for a moment, trying not to think about how much damage he'd done to her, not even wanting to think about anybody else.

_Except for Cedes, f__ix this_, he told himself and sat down to figure out a way.

* * *

At about the same time Santana was reading Sam the riot act, Cedes was listening to Holly say, "This is really good," as she speared the last marsala-soaked mushroom at Cedes' dining room table. Then Holly said, "Tell me again why we're doing this."

"Because we always had chicken marsala on Tuesday nights," Cedes said, stabbing her chicken with no enthusiasm."I'm trying to cloud the association."

"Very practical," Holly said. "Except you're miserable, so there's not enough cloud in the world, babe."

"May I have the butter, please?" Bree said, picking up another piece of bread from Rory's. Marley pushed the butter dish her way. "Have you heard from him?" she asked Cedes.

"Of course not," Cedes said, revving up her anger again so she wouldn't have to think about how she'd been waiting for a phone call for two days. "He's mad at me. Can you believe it? He's mad at me. Did I make a bet? Noooo. But he's —"

"Oh, please, no more of this," Holly said. "You've bitched about him for two days. Face it, the man might have a point."

Cedes put down her fork, and Bree stopped buttering her bread.

"He does not have a point," Cedes snapped. "This whole mess is because he does not have a point and now you're turning on me? It's not enough that Marley sandbagged me with that fairy tale garbage, now you—"

"It's not garbage," Marley said. "You got the fairy tale. You got the handsome prince who loved you. It worked."

"It did not work," Cedes said, slamming her hand down on the table. "He went into a snit and left. Just my luck, I get a snitty prince. Which is why he wasn't a prince. Which is why I don't believe that garbage. I do not believe in the fairy tale, okay?"

"I don't think it matters," Marley said, mild as ever. "The fairy tale believes in you."

Cedes turned to Holly. "Tell her."

Holly leaned her elbow on the table. "She's right."

Cedes flopped back in her chair. "Oh, for crying out loud. If this wasn't my apartment, I'd leave."

"Well, look at it from his point of view," Holly said. "He didn't make that bet with Anthony. He tried not to date you, but he had to keep coming back because he was nuts about you, and you kept kissing him and then turning him down. He was patient, he charmed your parents, he was good to your friends, he found your snow globe, he taught you to cook, he got you to dress way better than you have in years, and then it turns out that while he was knocking himself out for you, you were playing him for a fool."

"No, I wasn't," Cedes said, but her anger cooled considerably.

"He really is a sweetie a whole lot better than Jake and Anthony," Bree said, licking butter off her lip.

"Holly's right," Marley said. "You know how awful school was for all three of these boys. They're all sensitive about being dumb. You hit Sam right on his sore spot, in front of his friends, in front of Lucy Quinn, in front of Anthony."

"Ouch," Cedes said faintly. She tried to summon up her old outrage over the bet, but after two days of venting, she'd been running out of steam anyway.

"I know you needed to be angry to deal with the pain," Holly said. "I do that, too. But if you want him back, get over it. Because if there wasn't a bet—"

"There wasn't," Cedes said miserably. "I believe him on that."

"Then he's given you everything and you haven't given him a damn thing."

"That's pretty harsh," Marley said to Holly.

"Why didn't you just ask him about the bet?" Holly said.

"I did," Cedes said.

"You said, 'Did you make a bet with Anthony that you could sleep with me in a month?'"

"No," Cedes said, not meeting her eyes. "I asked him if there was anything he wasn't telling me."

Marley nodded. "And what did he say?"

Cedes sat back. "He kept confessing to things that weren't about the bet."

"That must have been fun for everyone," Holly said. "Why didn't you flat out ask him?"

Cedes put her head in her hands. "I was afraid, okay? You know how all those people say, 'If they just talked about their problems, they'd all go away'? Well, I bet none of those people talk about their problems. I mean, it sounds good, but it's a terrible gamble." She looked up at Holly. "I knew he made that bet. I heard him. And I..." She stopped and swallowed. "I knew I only had a month and I wanted that month with him." She shook her head. "Not everybody faces life head-on the way that you do."

"Well, they should," Holly said. "You screwed up. He screwed up. He is too much of a boy all up in his triggered feelings to man up and call you first. So now you're going to have to call him."

"What?" Marley said while Cedes gaped at Holly, and Bree watched them all, fascinated.

Holly got up from the table, picked up Cedes' phone, and brought it over to her. "Call him. Tell him you were wrong in not telling him about the bet in the first place, and you'll do anything to make it up to him."

Cedes swallowed. "You want me to call him first when he showed his behind off at a time that I needed him to think about someone else besides himself?"

"Yes," Holly said. "I'm not going to watch you lose him because of your dumb pride. Call and offer him anything he wants if he'll take you back."

Cedes looked at Marley, who nodded. _Were her friends out of their damn minds? She missed Sam. She loved Sam. But he was wrong and he should be calling her. But..._she looked at the phone. If she called Sam, she'd at least get to hear his voice. How pathetic was that?

"Pathetic," she said out loud.

"Only if you let him go," Holly said. "For once in your life, do the irrational, reckless thing. Call him." Cedes sat there, frozen in fear. Then she took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

* * *

Sam was rehearsing his "How about a late dinner tomorrow?" speech when the phone rang, but when he picked it up and heard Cedes' tentative "Hi?" and he forgot it all.

"Hi," he said and sat down hard on the couch.

"Don't say anything," she said, her words coming out in a rush. "Let me get this out. I was wrong not to tell you I knew about the bet. I was wrong not to trust you. I want you back. I want us back. I love you and I need you—" Relief made Sam dizzy.

"And I want you to see you now," she went on, and Sam thought, _Christ, yes_, and then the other shoe dropped. "Now?" he said and looked at the clock. Twenty-six hours before the bet was up._ Just tell her, yes_, he thought, she doesn't care about the bet anymore, she said so, and then he remembered how she'd sounded when she'd said it at the wedding.

"It's been driving me crazy saying no to you all these weeks," Cedes was babbling, "but if you're not ready for that, that's okay, I just want to see you. I haven't seen you for two days, and I miss you so much. Can I come over right now? Just to talk? Or, you know, we could do other things. I can think of several. If you want more than talk. More would be good with me. Or not. Whatever." _More would be great with me,_ Sam thought and shook his head to clear it.

"I'm on my knees here," Cedes said, her voice straining to be chipper. "And not in a good way. Can I come over?"

"No," Sam said. "I'll come to you. Later." He swallowed. "Tomorrow. Nine-thirty. Tomorrow night, nine-thirty."

"Not now?" Cedes said, her voice cracking.

"No," Sam said. "No. Nine-thirty. Tomorrow. I'll bring dinner."

"I can cook now," Cedes said. "I can make dinner. I can make it now."

"I'll bring dinner tomorrow," Sam said, thinking,_ Christ, I've been stupid_.

"Fine, whatever." Cedes waited for a moment and then added, "I'm kind of hungry now, though."

"Tomorrow, nine-thirty, your place," Sam said, gritting his teeth.

"Okay," Cedes said. "All right. Tomorrow night it is." He was about to say good-bye when she said, "Are you seeing Lucy Quinn?"

"Christ, no," Sam said, casting a guilty look at the door.

"Because you left with her. And Anthony said you were. Or I wouldn't have asked. I mean, it's none of my business."

"It's your business," Sam said. "And Anthony is an idiot. Stop talking to him."

"I'm trying," Cedes said.

Sam felt all his tension morph into a wave of much more convenient anger. "What does that mean, you're trying?"

"He calls. For some reason, this whole mess has convinced him that he and I should get married."

"He's wrong," Sam snapped.

"I know that," Cedes said, her voice not placating anymore.

"You've got caller ID. Stop picking up the phone."

"Look, I'm not completely stupid."

"You're not stupid at all," Sam said, "your past month's decisions to entertain that idiot notwithstanding."

"Hey, you made the bet with him."

"I did not—"

"The second one. The take-me-to-dinner one. I screwed up but I'm not going to pay for it for the rest of my life. You're culpable here, too. You made that dinner bet with Anthony."

_There you go,_ Sam thought. Santana was right, damn it.

"Not that I'm assuming you're going to be around for the rest of my life," Cedes said, tentative again.

"Tomorrow night," Sam said and hung up, before either one of them said something even dumber, pretty sure he'd done the right thing. _Christ, I'm in a Meg Ryan movie,_ he thought and went to tell Santana that he'd done what she said.

* * *

"I love you," Cedes said forlornly to the dial tone.

"What happened?" Holly said. "What was all that stuff about Lucy Quinn and Anthony? I told you to reconcile, not fight."

Cedes put the phone down. "He doesn't want to see me until tomorrow."

"That's strange," Holly said. "If I'd promised Hunter sex like that, he'd have been here before I hung up the phone."

"I didn't actually promise him sex," Cedes said.

"Oh, please," Holly and Marley said together, and even Bree nodded and said, "Yes, you did."

"Could I keep some shred of dignity here?" Cedes said. "He just said no to sex, the bastard."

"No, he didn't," Marley said, patting her hand. "He just said, not until tomorrow." She frowned. "I don't get him."

"Tell us what he said," Holly said.

"He said he'd come over here tomorrow at nine-thirty, and he'd bring dinner. Like I want to eat." Cedes sniffed. "I hate this. This is dumb."

"What's so special about nine-thirty tomorrow night?" Holly said. "What's tomorrow? It's just Wednesday."

"It's Ryder's and my anniversary," Marley said. "He's ordering champagne, and then he's going to pick me up at the bar the way he did four weeks ago, and then he's going to propose."

"Cute," Cedes said.

"That's it," Holly said, straightening. "Tomorrow night it's four weeks since Anthony made the bet."

"But Sam didn't take the bet," Cedes snapped. "I'm tired of this conversation. He didn't—"

"But everybody knows about it," Holly said. "So if you give in before the time's up, he wins. And he loves to win. He always wins. He lives to win."

"Not seeing your point," Cedes said.

"He's throwing the bet," Holly said.

" Why?" Cedes stood up."Why in the name of God —"

"It's sort of gallant," Marley said.

"If you ask me, it's a control thing, too," Holly said, disdain in her voice. "He gets to call the shots. What happened at nine-thirty?"

Cedes shrugged, confused. "We got to the restaurant a little before ten so we were probably leaving the bar about then."

Holly nodded. "He's giving himself some leeway." She frowned.

"Although more than he needs if he's bringing dinner. Then there'll be foreplay. It's going to take some time to get you—"

"He can have me when he walks in the door," Cedes said.

Bree picked up her bread again. "I'll go to the movies tomorrow night. You're going to need this place to yourself, and I'm not going back home. Mom's still mad I moved in here. She's convinced I'm eating carbs."

"I can celebrate my engagement at Ryder's place. You are more than welcome to spend the night in my place." Marley offered.

Bree shook her head in agreement and bit into the bread, and Cedes laughed in spite of herself and then began to consider the situation. So what if Sam lost the bet? Ten bucks. He could afford it. "No," she said. "I'm not going to be the bet he lost, that's not how I want us to start. He's going to win that bet tomorrow night, and he's going to be very happy doing it."

"Why tomorrow?" Holly said.

"Because I'm going to need a really hot nightgown," Cedes said. "And a lot more courage than I have right now. And a plan."

"Explain," Holly said, and Cedes leaned in and they began to talk.

* * *

"What the hell is going on?" Anthony said the next evening when he called Lucy Quinn. "I thought you said that the fight at the wedding would end it."

"We lost," Lucy Quinn said, her voice sounding tired. "He loves her so much, he's forgiven her."

"I just talked to Cedes," Anthony said, reliving the experience in vivid detail. "She told me she's going to make sure he wins so I should get my checkbook out. She sounded mad at me. "

"Anthony, it's done," Lucy Quinn said. "The only thing we can do is wait and hope infatuation wears itself out and they come to their senses."

"Six months to three years? I'm not waiting on Samuel Evans." Anthony thought of Sam with loathing. He had Cedes so snowed she believed he'd actually throw that bet. He'd probably set it up so she'd insist on his winning. He'd probably. . . Anthony sat back. "Wait a minute. What if Cedes found out he was playing her?What if he tricked her into sleeping with him so he could win the bet?"

"He's not," Lucy Quinn said, tiredly. "It's done, Anthony."

"No, it's not," Anthony said. "Not if the bet's for midnight. What if her family and friends found out he made that bet?"

"It's done, Anthony," Lucy Quinn said.

"I'm not done," Anthony said. "I'm going to win."

* * *

At eight, Sam had a bottle of wine and a box of Krispy Kremes ready to take to Cedes's apartment, and an hour and a half of rabid sexual frustration to kill when the phone rang.

" Sam," Bree said when he answered. "You have to get over here. Cedes is in trouble."

"What—" Sam said, and then all he heard was a dial tone. "Okay," he said and headed over to Cedes' apartment, deeply suspicious.

When he knocked on the door, Bree opened it. "Thank God you're here," she said and hauled him inside. Then she slipped out the door and left, slamming it behind her.

"What is this?" Sam turned around and saw Cedes, dressed in a short black trench coat, her back against the door, that glint in her eyes. "Oh, funny," he said, trying to sound mad. "Did you ever hear the story about the actuary who cried 'Wolf'?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "The wolf ate her." She grinned at him, and his pulse kicked up. "I have news for you, Charm Boy. You are not going to throw this bet."

"Oh, yes, I am," Sam said, retreating around her couch. "If we sleep together now, there will come a day when we're arguing about the electric bill, and you'll say, 'You only dated me for the bet.' I'm not paying for this for the rest of my life when all I have to do is wait an hour and a half." He looked at the clock on the mantel. "Eighty minutes."

"The rest of your life, huh?" Cedes said.

"Yes, Mercedes, the rest of my life. You think I'd go through the hell this month has been just for the sex?"

Cedes blinked. "Well, yes."

Sam thought about it. "Okay, you have a point."

"Did I mention I'm not wearing underwear." Cedes slid around the couch and he backed around to the other side.

"You do this to torture me, don't you?" Sam said.

"No, I'm doing it to get you into bed," Cedes said. "The torture is just a perk."

"Cedes," Sam said.

"No," Cedes said. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life as the bet you lost. Plus I'm tired of hearing about how I'm not a risk-taker. So I'm taking a risk on you." She pulled a ten-dollar bill out of her trench coat pocket. "I've got ten bucks says I'm going to have you naked and inside me before nine-thirty." Sam went dizzy for a moment and when he'd shaken his head to clear it, she'd slapped the ten on the table by the couch.

"There it is, sport," Cedes said. "You going to be a wimp, or are you going to play?" She was smiling at him, heat and love in her eyes, and he started to laugh. "Cedes, it's eighty minutes, not a month. You really think I can't hold out that long?"

"Yep," Cedes said, her hands on her hips.

He got out his wallet, took out a ten, walked over to the table, and slapped it on top of her ten. "You're on," he said, keeping the table between them. "Let's see what you've got, Mercy." She unbuckled her trench coat, dropped the belt onto the couch, and took off the coat. She was wearing a strapless black lace nightgown, and as far as Sam could see, there was nothing holding it up.

"I know it would have been better if I'd been naked," she said, rocking on her heels so that everything bounced. "I'm just not that confident yet."

"Actually," Sam said, staring at her, "now I'm going to think about ripping that off you for the next eighty minutes, so this may be the way to go." He looked at the top of the nightgown where the lace cut into her flesh. "It doesn't look that hard to get off."

Cedes put her finger inside the top of the lace and snapped it. "Elastic. One good tug and—"

"Not for eighty minutes." He looked at the clock. "Seventy-seven minutes. But I want to make it clear that when the time's up, you're mine."

"Oh, yeah," Cedes said, nodding.

"Well, then," Sam said. "Read any good books lately?"

"No," Cedes said, beginning to move around the table. "I can't read because all I can think about is you."

Sam moved away from her, toward the other end of the couch. "That must be boring."

"No, you're always doing the most amazing things to me," Cedes said, moving closer.

Sam moved around to the front of the couch. "You know, I'm not that good in bed."

Cedes reversed direction and surprised him, grabbing his shirt. "That's all right. I'm fantastic."

She pushed him onto the couch and straddled him, her soft weight pinning him down, and Sam thought, _I should do something about this,_ but even as he thought it, his hands were on her, feeling her heat through the scratch of the lace.

"I've been told my mouth is a miracle," she whispered, leaning into him, and he closed his eyes as her breasts pushed softly against his chest.

She kissed him, and her mouth was hot and sweet, and he tightened his hands on her and pulled her close. "Christ, I've missed you," he said against her mouth.

"I missed you, too," she said, not playing anymore. "I don't ever want to be without you again."

"You never will," Sam said. "I'm not walking away from you again. Ever."

"Thank you." Cedes sat back and took a deep breath and Sam watched, heat rising. "Listen, there's something I have to tell you."

His hands cupped her rear end and pulled her tighter. She really wasn't wearing underwear. "Talk slow." He bent his head to kiss her neck and bit it softly instead.

Cedes shivered. "Remember, I said, 'Don't break my heart'? Well, I changed my mind. You can break it."

"Hey," Sam said, his hands tightening on her. "I'm not—"

"It doesn't matter, I'll love you anyway," Cedes said, "I loved you when I thought you'd made that bet, I loved you when I thought you were playing me, I loved you while I was screaming at you in the street, I loved you when you left the wedding with Lucy Quinn, you rat bastard—"

"I took her home and left," Sam said, alarmed. "I swear to God, I—"

"It doesn't matter," Cedes said. "That's what I'm trying to tell you, it doesn't matter what you do or say. I'm going to love you till the end of time."

Sam looked at her, stunned.

"I know," Cedes said. "It's really un-PC. I just thought you should know that you can't screw this up."

"I can't?" Sam said, wanting to believe her.

"No," Cedes said. "Which doesn't mean I'm not going to yell if you make me mad again. I will shout and slam doors. I just won't be on the other side of the door when I slam it. You've got me for life."

He lost his breath and put his forehead against her shoulder. "God, I love you."

Cedes sighed. "That's good because there's something else I have to tell you."

Sam nodded, still dazed.

Cedes swallowed. "The thing is, I'm going to spread. Hips, thighs—"

"Not till nine-thirty," Sam said, trying not to picture her.

"—waist," Cedes said, and then stopped. "What? Nine-thirty? Not till my forties, probably, I think I can fight it off that long, but then—"

"What?" Sam said.

"I'm going to get fat," Cedes said, and he blinked. "Er. I'm going to get bigger." She frowned at him. "What did you think I meant?"

"For future reference," he said, starting to laugh. "If you're sitting half naked on my lap and you tell me you're going to spread—"

"No," Cedes said and tried to push him away, and he toppled her so she landed, lush and hot beneath him.

"I would never say that," she said, looking up at him as her arms slid around his neck. "That would be crude."

"I liked it," Sam said and kissed her.

"What I'm trying to tell you," Cedes said when she came up for air, "is that I'm going to grow up to be one of those chubby old ladies. It's in my genes. Like self-rising flour. I'm going to poof."

"That's going to work out well for me," Sam said. "Because I'm going to grow up to be like those horny old men who chase chubby old ladies around the couch."

"I'm serious," Cedes said, but she was smiling, her soft lips open for him.

"So am I," Sam said. "You think I care what you weigh? Hell, woman, you've called me a beast, a wolf, the devil, and a vile seducer. Plus your best friend has beaten me up three times—"

"You hit me in the eye," Cedes said.

"—and you yelled at me in public, and I'm still here. If you think you getting softer is going to get rid of me—"

"Men are visual," Cedes said.

"Yeah." Sam slid his finger under the elastic edge of her nightgown. "That's why I like this thing you're not wearing. But I still want a chance to rip your sweats off you, too." He stopped smiling, trying to give her what she'd given him. "It's just you, Mercy. That's all I want. I just want to spend the rest of my life with you."

"Oh." Cedes reached up for him, and he remembered the bet and sat up, hating to let her go.

"Starting at nine-thirty." He looked at the clock. "Which is in seventy minutes. What do you want to do for seventy minutes, Mercy? Got a Scrabble board?"

"I'll use dirty words," Cedes said.

"Yeah, like 'spread,'" Sam said, and laughed.

Cedes looked at the ceiling. "See, this is one of those things that doesn't matter, I love you anyway."

"I love that part," Sam said. "So what's new with you?"

"That would be saying 'yes, you can have me any way you want me' to you." She sat up and pulled him to her again, and he shifted on the couch to make room for her and felt something dig into his hip. Cedes kissed his neck, and he shivered as he reached behind him and pulled out her coat belt, buckle first. Then she bit him, and he said, "Ouch," and she leaned back and smiled at him.

"You're going to win the bet with Anthony and lose the bet to me, hotshot," she said. "Think of it as breaking even."

He looked at her and thought, _she's right_, and then looked at the belt in his hand. "Just for the record, no matter what I do, you'll love me?"

"Yes," she said.

"Good." He tipped her back onto the couch and stretched her wrists over her head. "I like being in control, Mercy."

"I know." Cedes smiled up at him. "I can work with that." He kissed her again, and while she was distracted, he wrapped the belt around her wrists.

"Hey," she said, breaking the kiss, but he'd already wrapped the ends of the belt around the arm of the couch.

She stretched up to see her wrists as he tied the knot. "This is a little kinky, Samuel."

"Not really," Sam said, getting up. "You know, I had a dozen doughnuts to bring over here, and then you cried wolf, and now we don't have them. But I forgive you because that's the kind of relationship we have." He moved to the kitchen alcove. "So what do you want to talk about for ..." He stretched to see the clock. "... sixty-seven minutes."

"Sam," Cedes said.

There was a familiar green and white sack on the kitchen counter. "Krispy Kremes," he said. "Great minds think alike." He brought the sack back into the living room. "You know, Mercy, you tortured me for a month, looking so good I lost my mind every time I saw you. I wanted you so much I was insane from it." He looked down at her, tied to the couch. "Still am, evidently."

"Okay, I'm sorry about that," Cedes said, tugging on the belt.

"So now it's your turn." He sat down across from her. "Now I'm going to torture you."

Cedes stopped tugging. "This could be good. What are you going to do?" He took a Krispy Kreme out of the bag.

"I'm going to eat this in front of you," Sam said and bit into the doughnut

Cedes scowled at Sam, but all the bastard did was grin back, looking desirable as all hell while he finished his second doughnut. Slowly.

"And you wonder why I wouldn't sleep with you," Cedes said. "It was because I sensed the sadist in you." She shifted to get more comfortable and watched his jaw tense. _Hello_, she thought and shifted again.

"You know," Cedes said, trying a new strategy. "This is scaring me. There's a strange man in my apartment, and I'm tied to my couch. I'm terrified." She tried to put some fear into her voice, but it was hard since it was soaked with lust.

"Funny, you just look pissed off." Sam picked up the remote. "TV?"

Cedes gritted her teeth. "Men get arrested for this."

"Only if they get caught. I usually check CNN about this time." Sam looked down at her. "Of course, I usually don't have something better to look at. You have a great body."

"Oh, please," Cedes said. "I know you want to get laid but—"

"Guys buy magazines to look at breasts like yours," Sam said, "and here I am with a pair tied to a couch." He tossed the remote back on the coffee table. "CNN has lost its appeal."

"If I ever get off this couch," Cedes said through her teeth, "you're never seeing these breasts again. Now untie me."

"You didn't think that through," Sam said. "Try again."

" Samuel—"

"Do you have any idea," he said conversationally, "how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you?"

"So untie me and let's go," Cedes said, starting to feel cheerful again.

"Forty-five minutes," Sam said. "What do you want to talk about?"

Okay, Cedes told herself. _You're not thinking. You have the upper hand here, aside from being tied to the couch. He wants you. He can have you. He just needs to be jump-started._ "I've wanted you, too," she said, relaxing back against the pillows.

"Right," Sam said, picking up another doughnut. "That's why you kept walking away."

"Because of the bet," Cedes said. "Remember that picnic in the park? I wanted to knock you down and rip off your shirt and bite into you."

Sam stopped with the doughnut halfway to his mouth.

"I used to close my eyes and imagine you naked against me, all the things you'd do to me." He drew back a little and she said, "Especially my breasts. I have really sensitive breasts, did I mention that? I could almost come just imagining your mouth on my—"

"You don't play fair," Sam said.

" I don't?" Cedes said, trying to rise up. "I'm tied to the couch. How is that fair with regards to our bet?"

"It's not," Sam said. "One of the many reasons I like it." She exhaled in frustration, and he watched her, and then he got up and moved around the table to sit beside her. He scooped some chocolate icing off the doughnut with his finger. "Do you know how many fantasies I've had about your body?" He drew his finger around the slope of her breast, smearing the chocolate under the lace, and Cedes sucked in her breath. "This wasn't one of them," he said, marking her other breast the same way. "But it should have been."

"Sticky," Cedes said, complete sentences escaping her for the moment.

"Not a problem," Sam said, bending over her. "It's coming right off."

"Pervert," Cedes said, closing her eyes as she felt his tongue on her.

"Yep," he said, moving the lace lower. "But you like it."

"Ha," Cedes said.

Sam straightened enough to look into her eyes. "Want me to stop?" he said, and Cedes felt his hand under her breast, felt his thumb move across the heat there to the edge of the lace.

"I want everything you've got," Cedes said and watched his eyes darken as his hand tightened on her.

"Untie me."

"Nope," Sam said.

Cedes arched against him and he pushed her back, his breath coming faster, and bent down to her again, and this time he pulled down the lace, and when she felt his mouth on her, she arched as every nerve she had flared in relief.

He pulled back as she jerked and looked down at her, breathing hard, and just as she realized he was staring at her naked breast, he stripped the rest of the nightgown down so she was naked to the waist.

"Hey," she said and moved instinctively to cover herself and remembered she was tied.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, still staring at her breasts.

Cedes tugged at the belt, torn between embarrassment and lust, and then he slid his hands up to cup her breasts, and lust won. She closed her eyes and felt the heat of his mouth on her again, felt herself tighten and shudder, and pressed against him, praying he wouldn't stop.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam picked up the rest of the third doughnut and Cedes tried to remember her name."What are you doing ?" she said.

"Pacing myself," Sam said, sounding ragged. He bit into the doughnut. "I figure," he said after he'd swallowed "that as long as I have this in my mouth, I won't put you there." He looked at the clock.

"We've got half an hour. I don't think you have enough doughnuts."

"Could you at least pull my nightgown up?" Cedes said, feeling flushed as the heat receded.

"Nope." Sam finished the doughnut. "I'm thinking you should always go topless."

"That'll perk things up at work," Cedes said, and then remembered that there was nothing perky about her.

"I meant—"

"Not in public, dummy," Sam said. "Just at home. We'll put it in the wedding vows. You can promise to love, honor, cherish, and be naked from the waist up every night."

"Married?" Cedes said, trying to sit up.

"Well, of course, married," Sam said, watching her with interest. "You think I'd tie up somebody I wasn't serious about?"

"You haven't asked," Cedes said, yanking on the belt.

"Will you marry me?" Sam said, still watching her breasts.

"No," Cedes said, torn between love and murder.

"Right," Sam said. "Because years from now when Harry asks how I proposed, you don't want to say, 'Well, he tied me to the couch and ripped off my nightgown and ate doughnuts off my breasts and then he asked me.'" He bit into the doughnut again.

"All I want is to make love so we can put this dumb bet behind us and start a real relationship, although maybe not after this." She yanked on the belt again. "This could set us back some."

"Nope," Sam said, insufferably calm. "We agreed that nothing could hurt this relationship now. It's a little bent, but I like that about us."

"You're a little bent," Cedes said. "I am completely normal. Now untie me and fuck my brains out." Sam caught his breath for a minute, and Cedes thought, _Take me_, and then he bit into the doughnut again, and she exhaled through her teeth in frustration.

"Maybe I'm filling the wrong mouth," he said, and tore off a piece of the doughnut. "Open up."

"Look, I don't—" Cedes said, and Sam slipped the pastry into her mouth, and the sugar flooded everywhere. "Oh," she said and let the chocolate melt into her senses.

"My goal in life is to put that look on your face without chocolate," Sam said. Cedes swallowed. "You do. You're just never looking at me when it's on there."

"Really." Sam cupped her breast and began to stroke her with his thumb, and Cedes felt herself tighten under him again, but this time, when she opened her eyes, he was staring at her, watching her, and she blushed, from embarrassment and from heat and from wanting him. "Damn, you're right," he said and bent to kiss her, and Cedes forgot to be embarrassed and rose to taste him as he caressed her, sighing against his mouth.

"Untie me," she whispered, and he looked over her head.

"Nope, we still have half an hour to kill." He slid his hand down her calf. "I think I'll start with the toes this time. It's never been sucking on toes for me before, so this will be new."

"You're going to suck my toes for half an hour?" Cedes said in disbelief.

"I'm going to start at your toes," Sam said. "And work up."

"Up?" Cedes said.

"And in about fifteen minutes, you're going to lose the rest of this nightgown."

"With the lights on?" Cedes said, outraged, and he laughed and bent to her toes.

* * *

Anthony went down to the street to the pay phone on the corner because damn near everybody had caller ID these days. He dialed Cedes' parents' number, and when the phone stopped ringing, he said, "You should know this," only to be overrun by their answering machine. Well, that was all right, they never stayed out longer than nine anyway. Plenty of time. When he heard the beep, he said, "You should know this. Samuel Evans is seducing your daughter to win a bet. They're at her apartment right now." Then he hung up and considered what he had just done. As far as he could see, it was flawless.

Feeling pretty good about himself, Anthony called Lucy Quinn. "I need the number for Sam's parents."

"Why?" Lucy Quinn said flatly.

"It doesn't matter why," Anthony said. "What matters is that Sam would be furious if he found out that you told me how to start that fight on Sunday. Give me the number or I tell him." There was a long silence, and then Lucy Quinn put down the phone. When she came back, she gave him the number.

"Thank you," Anthony said, and hung up and dialed the number. When the ringing stopped, he said, "You should know this," only to be overridden by the Evans' answering machine. "This is ridiculous," he said, but when the beep sounded, he said, "You should know this. Your son is seducing a woman right now to win a bet. Her name is Cedes Jones and she is litigious and vindictive." Then he gave her apartment address and hung up.

"Not bad," he told himself and picked up the phone again, feeling pretty good about himself in general. Because he was going to win.

Anthony dialed Bree's cell phone on the theory that after what had happened to her on Sunday, Bree would be ripe to maim any man in her path, especially one hurting her sister. When the ringing stopped, he said, "You should know this," only to be overridden by Bree's voice mail. "Don't any of you people stay home on Wednesdays?" he snapped, but when the beep sounded, he said, "You should know this. Samuel Evans is seducing your sister right now to win a bet." Then he hung up and thought about the last call he had to make. The scary one.

It's anonymous, he told himself. She'll never know.

He went back up to his apartment to have a drink first anyway.

* * *

At a quarter after nine, having been touched everywhere she could imagine and a couple of places she hadn't thought of, Cedes felt Sam untie her.

She sat up and slugged him on the arm. "Don't ever do that again."

"Ouch?" Sam said, and she pushed him back and climbed onto his lap and kissed him hard, wrapping herself around him as tightly as she could.

When she came up for air, she slapped him on the shoulder again. "I mean it, never again," she said, and then went for his mouth again, hungry for it. A minute later she broke the kiss, breathing heavily, slugged him again, and said, "Never ever again."

"Really?" he said, as breathless as she was, and she looked back at the arm of the couch, the belt still tangled around it, and shivered.

"Well, not in the living room," she said. "And not for so long, and not with all these lights—" He dumped her back on the couch, pressing her against the pillows.

"When we do it again," he told her, his hands hot on her, "it'll be where I want, when I want, with spotlights if I want."

"I don't think so," she said and he kissed her again and she thought, _Oh, hell, whatever you want_, and kissed him back.

"Whatever I want," he whispered in her ear.

"Okay," she whispered back. "But can I have you now?"

"Almost," Sam said into her neck. "Fifteen—"

"You know what my favorite fantasy is?" she whispered in his ear, and he groaned. "It's you, sliding hard inside me." His hand tightened on her, and she said, "I love that part of sex, the first part, the way it feels, and it's going to be the best with you because everything else with you has been the best I've ever had, the way I feel when you touch me, the way you kiss me, that's why I know the way you—"

He kissed her hard, pushing her back on the pillows, taking her voice and her breath away, and when he stopped, he said, "Shut up, we've got fifteen minutes yet," and began to lick his way down her body.

"Uh," Cedes said, as he set every nerve she had alight again. "What are you going to do for fifteen minutes?" and he bit into her thigh as he moved her legs apart with his hand.

"Oh, God," Cedes said, as he licked inside her. "I'm going to lose ten dollars."

* * *

Holly's cell phone rang in the kitchen at Rory's, and Hunter got it out of her purse and handed it to her, never dropping the fork he had buried in his spaghetti.

"You sure we're not seeing each other?" Holly said as she took the phone. "Because you sure show up here a lot."

"I eat here," Hunter said, twirling more spaghetti on his fork. "I pre-date you."

"Right," Holly said, clicked her phone on. "Hello?"

"Holly?" a man's voice said. "You should know this. Sam Evans is tricking Cedes into winning that bet."

"What?" Holly said. "Who is this?"

"The bet's over at midnight," the voice said, sounding smugly familiar. "And he wants to win."

"Anthony?" Holly said.

The phone clicked off and Holly was left with a dial tone.

"Anthony?" Hunter said, looking up from his spaghetti.

"Hey, Rory?" Holly yelled over the kitchen noise. "I'm taking a break."

"Oh, no," Hunter said.

"Eat your pasta," Holly said, moving toward the door.

"Oh, hell," Hunter said and dropped his fork to follow her.


	18. Chapter 16

**A/N I don't find it the least ironic that the black family reunion song "Before I Let Go" is in this version of this story and that a line from it is in the title. Our family reunion is officially over for me. My nieces and nephews, and sisters, and friends, I will be doing my disappearing act but know that I have so much fun with all of you, and I truly appreciate every favorite, follow, review, and anyone out there that is simply reading this and enjoying it. It is all for you amazing people that I can't let go of and for this fandom that I can't let go of. You truly make me happy. **

**Please continue to support all the other fanfiction writers with a DM if you don't review just to let them know that you appreciate them and the effort they make to bring you some entertainment... working on these stories is a job without physical payment it requires time, discipline, and love and you words of support or you following them is the only payment they need. I get lots of love from you so I don't need any DMs. I get overwhelmed that I can't reply to all your reviews and juggle all four of the stories that I posted this summer in four weeks, so I inundate you with these long A/Ns. You truly light up my summer.**

** I don't own this work but I have read a lot of books from Jennifer Crusie and she makes me happy and LOL while I read her works, so if you want to read some of her books please do so, too. Bye, for now, my awesome family. This chapter is more of an M rating there will be brief smexy times rated TV14, if you are too young or are bothered by this, it's easily skipped by finding the lines that break the chapter up.**

**Chapter Sixteen**

When Cedes was wound so tight, she was shaking, Sam laced his fingers in her hair and turned her head to show her the mantel clock. "It's nine-thirty-five," he said, his voice husky. "I lost the bet to Anthony. It's over."

"We wasted five minutes on mind-blowing oral sex?" Cedes said wildly.

"You weren't complaining," Sam said, resting his head on her stomach.

"Take me to bed or do me on this couch," Cedes said, breathing hard. "I want you now."

"I'm definitely marrying you," Sam said and pulled her up off the couch and toward the bedroom.

* * *

She tripped behind him and then gasped as he toppled her onto her satin comforter, her body sizzling against the cool fabric as he stripped and found a condom, and then he was beside her, pressed hotly against her, and she closed her eyes to savor him, bone and muscle hard against her.

"Don't wait," she said, and felt his hands on her again, sliding over her, making every nerve she had scream, and when his fingers slipped inside her again, she opened to him, shaking under him, and when she felt his body between her thighs, she arched to meet him, desperate to feel him hard inside her. His eyes were hot on her and she stared back, caught, crazy for him, and then he kissed her and slipped his tongue in her mouth as he slid into her, slick and hot, and she gasped and clutched at him as the shock of him went everywhere.

He pulled back and then slid deeper, and she bit her lip, weak with pleasure as heat thickened in her, and then she began to move with him, catching his rhythm, dizzy with the rightness of him, of them together.

He whispered in her ear as he moved against her, telling her that he loved her, that she was beautiful, that she was his, that she was so tight squeezing him like he never been squeezed before, that he was addicted to her, over and over and over, until she could feel him everywhere, his voice and his breath and his hands and his body, all-loving her, making her drunk with love and lust.

She licked across his lips with her tongue and she told him she loved him, forever, forever, no end, forever, and she felt him build in her blood, felt him everywhere, in her fingertips, behind her eyes, and deep and low where they were locked together, where the heat and the pressure and the tension twisted and tightened, glitter and stars, fusing into brightness sharper than anything ever before. He rocked her higher thrusting sharper and deeper, oh so deep and she dug her fingernails into him and cried his name as he rocked again and again and then she broke never experiencing making love before, arching under his hands as he held her down, spasming helplessly as his body surged against hers. And then, while she was still clutching him, still gasping from shattering ecstasy, he shuddered, too, and collapsed into her arms.

* * *

"Oh, God," Cedes said, when she could speak again.

"Good?" he said, breathless, and she shook her head.

"Very good. World-class. Phenomenal." She took a deep breath to stop the gasping and he slid his hand up to her breast where it belonged. She put her hand over his and pressed it tighter to her, and drew in another deep breath. "God, I love you."

"Good," Sam said, looking exhausted. "I love you, too. Sorry, we didn't have time to talk about what you wanted and how you like it. You were just so tight so wet so good and all that foreplay made me kind of lose control for the first time in my life."

"I wanted that, I like you losing control but not screwing me; I felt loved that you were making love to me, and I have never felt that before, and I want to feel it again," Cedes said between breaths.

"You got it," Sam said, and rolled his head and caught sight of her clock. "Oh, Christ."

Cedes looked up at her curling brass headboard and drew in a deep sighing breath. "I think I might want to be tied to this headboard someday."

"Just for the record," Sam said, "I usually last more than seven minutes." He let his head fall back onto her pillow. "Of course, foreplay usually doesn't last a month." He took a deep breath. "Go ahead, tell me the statistics on how long foreplay usually lasts."

"Not long enough," Cedes said. "You're the exception. Maybe I'll tie you to this headboard. And I'll do the chocolate icing."

Sam closed his eyes. "Thank you. I'd like that. Make a list. We'll do it all. Probably not tonight, but eventually."

Cedes curled into him as her pulse began to slow. "I'm so happy. I'm so crazy about you, and I'm so happy."

He rolled closer to her and kissed her, and she settled into him, safe and warm and satisfied.

"I love you," he said, and she opened her mouth to tell him that she loved him, too, when someone began to pound on her door.

"What the hell is that?" Sam said.

"My door?" Cedes said.

"Did Bree forget her key?" Sam eased himself up into a sitting position. "Ouch. You're a very athletic woman, Mercedes."

"Not really," Cedes said as the phone rang. "I got C's in PE."

"They were giving you the wrong assignments." Sam patted her on the hip and reached for his pants.

"You get the phone. I'll get the door. I'll meet you back here. Stay naked." Sam buttoned his shirt as he crossed Cedes' living room, reminding himself that yelling at his future sister-in-law would be bad. That made him almost glad when he yanked open the door and saw Anthony instead. He could yell anything he wanted at that dickhead.

"Is Cedes here?" Anthony said, looking smug.

"Yes, go away." Sam started to close the door and then remembered. "You won. I'll send you a check tomorrow. Now go away."

"I don't think so." Anthony blocked the doorway. "I have to see Cedes."

"Anthony?" Cedes said from behind them, and when they turned, Sam lost his breath. She had her blue-violet comforter wound around her, but her shoulders were bare, and she looked disheveled and rumpled, her curls tousled, her baby-doll cheeks flushed, and her full lips bruised and rosy, and Sam thought, I did that, and wanted her again so much that he took a step toward her.

"Oh my, God," Anthony said, slackjawed.

"Mine," Sam said. "Go away."

"You won," Anthony said, and shoved the check at him.

"What?" Sam frowned at him. "No."

"The bet was for midnight," Anthony said, still staring at Cedes. "You've got more than two hours left." He smiled at Cedes. "Guess Samuel the Great is also Samuel the Fast."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Sam said.

"It was for midnight?'" Cedes's voice was too high as she came closer to them, tripping over the comforter on the way.

_Mercedes, what are you up to_? Sam thought and watched her with interest and rebounding lust.

"Of course it was." Anthony smiled triumphantly at Sam. "All bets end at midnight."

Cedes hauled the comforter up again. "Do you mean to tell me," she said, her voice breaking, "that Sam won this bet?"

"Oh, yes," Anthony said, smugly.

"Well, gee, thanks," Cedes said in her normal voice as she took the check out of his hand. "I can always use ten bucks."

"What?" Anthony said, losing his smug.

Cedes smiled cheerfully at Anthony. "I know Sam won it," she said, "but we have this unwritten rule that I get all the money he wins on me. I'm picking up quite a bit of spare change that way, so this—" She looked at the check and almost dropped her comforter. "Oh, my God. "

"Not ten bucks," Sam said, yanking up the comforter before she lost it. Cedes looked up at him, appalled. "You bet ten thousand dollars you could get me into bed?"

"No," Sam said. "I'm going to get a T-shirt made that says, 'I did not make that bet.'"

"Ten thousand dollars," Cedes said, looking at the check again. "If you'd told me about this the first night and offered to split it, I'd have slept with you then."

"Really?" Sam said.

"No," Cedes said.

"I didn't think so." Sam took the check out of her hand and pushed it at Anthony. "You can go now."

"What is that?" Anthony said, pointing to the couch.

Sam looked back and saw Cedes's belt still draped over the arm.

"He tied me to the couch," Cedes said helpfully. "Then he ripped off my nightgown and smeared chocolate icing on me and licked it off. It was a nightmare." She grinned. "If you leave, we can do it again." She looked at Sam. "We're not out of doughnuts, are we?"

"If we are, I will run out and get more," Sam said. "Run being the operative word."

Anthony looked floored. "That's ..."

Cedes waited.

". .. so not like you," he finished.

"Well, it wasn't," Cedes said. "It is now."

"But—" Anthony began, and then Janette and George pushed him out of the doorway to get into the room.

"Oh, great," Sam said, lust evaporating as George caught sight of him.

"That's what I came to tell you," Cedes said, clutching her comforter more tightly."Anthony called Bree who is staying at Marley's, who called to warn me that he'd probably called some others."

"You," George said, heading for Sam, and Cedes stepped between them.

"You're overreacting," Cedes said to George.

"I've never liked your apartment, dear," Janette said, looking around. Then she saw the green and white bag on the table. " Doughnuts?"

"You should have been feeding me cocaine," Cedes said to Sam. "I understand that's slimming."

George stuck to his guns. "Cedes, Anthony says this man made a wager that he could—"

"No," Cedes said. " Anthony tried to get him to make that bet but Sam said no. Go yell at Anthony."

"Then what's this?" George ripped the check out of Sam's hand. "This is—" He caught sight of the amount. "—for ten thousand dollars." He looked at Sam. "You're not only immoral, but you're also reckless with money."

"I didn't make that bet," Sam said. "And no one will ever believe that."

"I believe it," Cedes said, smiling up at him.

"Then the hell with everybody else," Sam said and moved closer to her. George drew himself up. "Mercedes, get your clothes on, you're coming home."

"Dad, I'm thirty-three," Cedes said. "No." She reached out and took the check out of his hand. "Go home now. Take Mother with—"

"Samuel," a voice like ice said from the doorway.

Sam looked around George to see his mother. "Oh. Wonderful." He looked down at Cedes. "This is pretty much my fantasy. I finally make love to the woman of my dreams, and my mother shows up for the afterglow."

"Well," Cedes said, trying to keep the comforter up. "It really isn't a party until somebody brings the ice."

"Excuse me," Janette said, trying to push George out of the way. "You're Mary Lynne Evans, aren't you?" Mary Lynne looked at Janette as if she were part of the workforce.

Janette held out her hand. "I'm Cedes' mother, Janette? So pleased to meet you."

"How do you do," Mary Lynne said, without taking the hand, and turned back to Sam. "Samuel."

"Hello, Mother," Sam said. "This is the woman I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. If you don't approve, we'll spend the third Sunday of the month listening to Tupac here. Your call."

Mary Lynne looked at him for a long frozen moment, and then Sam saw Lucy Quinn come through the doorway behind her, looking sheet white. "Lucy Quinn you know better than to be here. I will be contacting the police about that restraining order for you ASAP."

"I called her," Mary Lynne said. "I felt that—"

"Hell no, both of you are psycho," Sam said to them both.

"You cannot be serious—" Mary Lynne began.

"Don't push him," Lucy Quinn said, quietly. "That's what I came to tell you. This is infatuation. It'll pass. Give him time."

Sam shook his head and pulled Cedes toward the couch, away from the loons who need to be admitted into the nearest psychiatric ward.

"I'll give him time," George said, still scowling. "I'll give the bastard—"

"Oh, you'll give him time" Janette snapped. "Like you're not worse than he is."

"What?" George said.

Cedes curled up next to Sam on the couch and laced her fingers with his. "So I owe you ten dollars since you made me wait until after nine-thirty."

"Yep," Sam said, tightening his grip on her. "Except I won it on a bet on you, so you'll just take it away from me again."

"I know what you're doing,'" Janette said to George, rage in her voice.

"I'm... yelling at the bastard who seduced my daughter," George said, knocked off stride.

"I know what you're doing on your lunch hour," Janette said, murder in her eye.

"I'm eating," George said, perplexed.

"Yes, but who?" Janette yelled, and Cedes cringed and said, "Oh, God, Mother," and Mary Lynne looked at Janette in contempt, and Lucy Quinn closed her eyes, and Anthony looked frustrated and confused and mad as hell, and then Holly walked in with Hunter behind her and stopped, scowling at all of them.

"What the hell is this?" she said.

"Hunter," Sam said, an edge to his voice.

"For the record," Hunter said to him, "I tried to stop her."

"Why didn't you lock the door so these people couldn't get in?" Holly said to Cedes.

"I did," Cedes said. "Sam opened it. Yell at him."

"Just hit me," Sam said. "Save us all some time."

"What did you mean by that?" George said to Janette, his face angry.

"Your lunches," Janette said, her voice rising. "You take your secretary to lunch every damn day."

"Loud voice," Cedes said, thinking of her neighbors. "Not your loud voice."

"They're working lunches," George said. "I need a secretary to do work."

"You never take me to lunch," Janette yelled.

"You don't EAT," George yelled back.

Cedes craned her neck to see around them to Holly. "You know, that bet was for ten thousand dollars."

"You're kidding." Holly looked at Sam, surprised. "You bet ten thousand dollars on—"

"No," Sam said. "Damn it, look." He took the check out of Cedes' hand and tore it in two. "See? No bet ."

"We could have used that," Cedes said, but she didn't sound upset.

They all began to talk, and Sam looked at Cedes and thought, all I want is to be alone with her for the rest of my life.

"Hey!" he said, and they all looked at him with various degrees of contempt, despair, and rage. He picked up a doughnut and turned to Cedes. "Mercedes Jones, I love you and I always will. Will you marry me?"

"This is so sudden," Cedes said, grinning at him.

"We got an audience, Mercy," Sam said. "You in or not?"

"I'm in," Cedes said, and he took her left hand, spread her fingers out, and slipped the doughnut over her ring finger, knowing with a certainty he'd never felt before that this was exactly the right thing to do.

"I'll get you a better ring later," he said, looking into her dark eyes. "I'll do this better, too. This is just to get these people off our backs."

"Well, when you do this better, I'm going to say yes again," Cedes said.

"Thank you," Sam said and kissed her, falling into her heat all over again. "God, I love you," he whispered in her ear. "I can't believe how much I love you."

"Okay," Holly said. "Show's over." She looked at Mary Lynne. "You have to be his mother. Don't mess with Cedes. If Sam has to choose—"

"He'll choose Tupac," Mary Lynne said, her voice flat. She turned and walked out of the apartment.

"Lovely woman," Holly said and turned to Janette. "Now you. Your husband is not cheating on you. I know men and he's not the type." She looked at George. "Stop working through lunch and take your wife out to eat instead." She turned back to Janette. "And you. Eat."

Janette's face crumpled, and George put his arm around her. "I'm not cheating," he said. "I don't have the time."

"Dad," Cedes said, but Janette sniffed and said, "Really?"

"I didn't think I'd find you here," Holly said to Lucy Quinn, not unkindly. "It's the book, isn't it?"

"No," Lucy Quinn said, staring hopelessly at the doughnut squashed between Cedes's fingers. "No."

"Listen," Holly told her, "nobody wants to hear an incredibly beautiful woman tell about how she landed an incredibly beautiful man. That's just smug and boring as hell. Write a book about how you lost the love of your life and recovered. People could use that."

"It's over, Lucy Quinn," Holly said. "He's gone. Forever. And if you show up anywhere near my friend and her fiance again, I can't promise that I won't lay fighting hands on you. So be smart and leave and don't ever return."

Lucy Quinn's face fell, and Holly turned to Anthony.

"And you are a worthless piece of garbage," she said. "So do something decent and take Lucy Quinn home before I allow Sam and Hunter to beat your no good ass because if I lay hands on you, I would probably kill you. The first thing I am going to do tomorrow is to make the two of them get restraining orders for both of you."

"This is a mistake," Anthony told Cedes. "Do you know what this man is?"

"Yep," Cedes said, pulling a piece of chocolate icing off her engagement ring. "It's okay. We're going to grow up and mature nicely together something that you are incapable of doing you no good cheating ass jerk."

"Out," Holly said to him, and Lucy Quinn left. Holly glared at Anthony. "Well, go after her, you vicious dork. Do something nice for a change instead of anonymous phone calls or I swear you are going to be arrested or in the hospital."

Anthony drew himself up. "I didn't—" he began, but Holly folded her arms, so he transferred his attention to Cedes. "He's a terrible user, Cedes."

"No, he's not," Cedes said. "He's a prince. And you're a toad who makes anonymous phone calls and I told you what would happen to you the last time you came to my apartment and you had the audacity to bring all these people here. You better be glad Sam gave it to me so good that I am still in the afterglow and after his proposal, I am too happy to push you down all those stairs."

"You never did understand me," Anthony said, and walked out.

"What a fathead," Holly said.

"You're going to marry this man?" George said to Cedes, sounding incredulous.

"Yes," Cedes said. "Don't be mean to him, or you'll lose us. I am fed up with you and your crazy dieting wife. If my body or my sister's body or what we eat are mentioned again by her, we won't let you both around us either."

George shot Sam a look that said, _I'm watching you, buddy_, and then turned on his heel and went towards the door.

"Well, you'll have beautiful children," Janette said, cheering up.

"We're not having kids," Cedes said, and when her mother's eyes narrowed, she added, "because with parents like we got we know it's best to not pass that bad DNA along, and you should be happy. I would never be able to lose that baby weight."

"That's true," Janette said, and then George who had heard his wife came back and dragged her out the door.

"All right then," Holly said, looking around the emptied apartment. "My work here is done."

"Who are you again?" Sam said. "Because you look like this woman who keeps hitting me, but you seem to be on my side. Do you have an evil twin?"

"I'm Cedes' fairy godmother, Charm Boy," Holly said, frowning down at him. "And if you don't give her a happily ever after, I'm going to come back and beat you to death with a snow globe. This I can promise."

"What happened to 'Bibbity Bobbity Boo'?" Sam asked Cedes.

"That was Disney, honey," Cedes said. "It wasn't a true documentary of real-life fairy tales."

Holly went to the door and stopped when she saw Hunter there, his arms folded. "Come on. You can yell at me on the way back to the restaurant."

"Nope," Hunter said. "That was good what you just did." He leaned closer. "Very hot."

"I'm not going to sleep with you," Holly said and went out the door.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Hunter said and followed her out, closing the door behind them. Silence settled over the apartment.

"I'll never forget my first time with you," Cedes said as she edged the doughnut off her finger. "The earth moved, and then my mother asked my father who he was going down on at lunch."

"Yes, there were some moments there," Sam said.

Cedes shook her head. "We're never going to be rid of those people minus Anthony and Quinn, we will be getting restraining orders whether we want to or not or Holly will do us some serious injury."

"I know," Sam said.

"Thank God we have each other." Cedes looked up at him. "I love you."

"Thank God and thank you for loving me back," Sam said and kissed her.

"So I'm buying a house," Cedes said when she came up for air. "How do you feel about an Arts and Crafts bungalow like my grandma used to live in with three or four bedrooms at the most and two and a half baths and not those gigantic showplaces our parents live in?"

"Are you in it and we get to decorate it with furniture that matches both our personalities?" Sam asked.

Cedes nodded.

"I'm there," Sam said. "Can we go back to bed now?"

"Yes," Cedes said. "Bring those doughnuts."

An hour and a half later and many sexual positions later with Sam hitting it quickly from the back which he loved and her riding him nice and slow, Cedes lay curled beside Sam who was breathing almost loudly enough to be called snoring, and she patted his shoulder. A_ month ago, I didn't know him_, she thought dreamily._ And now he's the rest of my life._

Then she pulled back a little. That sounded ridiculous. Completely irrational, in fact. Screw rationality, she thought, but the thought didn't go away. You'd have to be insane to pin the rest of your life on somebody you'd only known a month, especially somebody with a past like Sam's. She slid out from under his arm and picked up his shirt from the floor. When she put it on, it failed to meet in the middle over her chest. That always works in the movies, she thought, disgusted, and dropped it on the floor. Instead, she pulled the comforter off the bed. It was June. He wasn't going to freeze.

Then she went out and sat on her grandmother's couch, wrapped in her comforter, and tried to make sense of everything. _So, _she thought_, essentially what we have here is that I'm looking at the biggest player in town and thinking he's True Love That Will Last Forever. What are the odds on that?_ Across from her, the clock on the mantel clicked as the hands hit midnight.

"Hey," Sam said, and she looked up to see him in the doorway, stifling a yawn. "What are you doing?"

"It's midnight," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm turning back into a pumpkin."

"That explains the couch," he said and came to sit beside her. He put his arm around her and pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead, and she closed her eyes and leaned into him, loving him so much she was weak with it. _I'm in big trouble here_, she thought.

"Something wrong?" he said. "I thought everything was pretty much perfect once the loons left."

"It is," she said. "I'm just trying to figure out what's next."

"Next." Sam nodded. "Okay. Well." He took her hand and yawned again. "Tomorrow, I'll call my mother so she doesn't put a curse on us, and we'll go have dinner with your parents and make sure they're not still nuts."

"There's hope," Cedes said. The comforter slipped down over her shoulder, and Sam put his hand there, making lazy circles on her skin with his fingertips as he talked.

"And then we'll go looking for that house you were talking about, one with only six steps up from the street." He shifted a little to avoid a spring and added, "And we'll get a new couch." Cedes felt herself start to smile, the happiness bubbling up in spite of the odds, and he held her tighter.

"And then we'll get married, and we'll live happily ever after."

Cedes went cold as he brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Yeah. That's the part I'm wondering about."

Sam's hand tightened on hers. "You think we're going to have problems?"

"I don't know," Cedes said, looking into his eyes. "I think we're going to love each other till the day we die, but I don't know if that's enough. Life is not a fairy tale."

"Okay," Sam said. "It's midnight, I've had a very full evening, and I'm a little slow here. What are you worried about?"

"The happily ever after," Cedes said, knowing she was sounding like an idiot. "All the stuff we just did, the romance part, the fairy tale stuff, I know how that works, I read the stories."

"Fairy tale stuff?"

"But they don't tell you about the happily ever after. And as far as I can see, that's where it all breaks down. Fifty percent of marriages end in divorce, and yes, I know those statistics are skewed by repeat divorcers—"

"It's midnight, and I'm listening to statistics," Sam said.

—but I'm worried. There aren't any happily ever after stories. That's where it ends. Where the hard part starts."

"All right," Sam said. "So?"

"So," Cedes said, meeting his eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"You want me to be philosophic about the future now?" Sam said. "I'm not even sure where I left my pants."

Cedes looked at him for a moment, loving him in spite of the fact that he had bed hair and was making jokes and wasn't helping. In spite of everything, she thought and smiled at him. "No." She clutched the comforter around her. "I don't know what I was thinking. Let's go back to bed."

"We're going to take it one day at a time," Sam said, holding on to her. "I don't know anything about this, either, I didn't plan for this, but I think we will be okay if we just stick together. Take care of each other. Pat each other on the back when things get tight." When she still looked unsure, he smiled at her with so much love in his eyes that she went dizzy, and then he said, "Bet you ten bucks we make it."

_What are the odds?_ she thought and realized with sudden, blinding clarity that she wouldn't take the other side of that bet, that only a loser would bet against them. _This is really it,_ she thought, amazed. _This is really forever. I believe in this._

"Cedes?" he said, and she kissed him, putting all her heart into it.

"No bet," she said against his mouth."Your odds are too good."

"Our odds are too good," he said and took her back to bed.

* * *

**Epilogue**

In case you were wondering ... Anthony got over Cedes pretty quickly, although the fact that Sam won bothered him for years. Four months later, he met a woman named Vanessa a failed film actress from Brooklyn who worked for him and agreed with everything he said and slept with him on the third date giving him Chlamydia which he didn't discover until after they were engaged. They were married six months later. She never cooks with butter. They never had any children due to damage from her repeatedly getting STDs from having unprotected sex.

Quinn took longer to get over Sam because in her mind she really did love him. She holed up in her apartment, subsisting on carrots and nonfat ranch dressing, and had sex with an occasional male prostitute that looked like Sam who was a bisexual stripper from Kentucky until Holly saw her one day at a Lima strip club and dragged her out into the sun, made her write about her breakup, and called in a favor from one of her many former bosses to get the book to another editor. The editor, a guy with glasses who was considerably shorter than any man Lucy Quinn had ever dated and not considered beautiful by any means, made her rewrite it four times and then threw all the promotional power of his publishing house behind it. Artie Abrams married Lucy Quinn the day before the book hit number one on the New York Times bestseller list. They both had Chlamydia as well from Quinn's sex with the male prostitute that Quinn still continued to sleep with until she moved to New York but both are clean now. They have a penthouse in New York and eat only in the very best restaurants.

Rory let Holly tell him what to do and within the year Rory's was the hottest restaurant in town. He offered her a partnership if she stayed, but things were running well and she was bored, so she introduced him to a friend of hers with an MBA in management named Sue Sylvester and left to go save somebody else.

George stopped taking his overworked secretary to lunch, for which she was grateful even though she missed the expensive food. He now has lunch with Janette three times a week. She eats and no longer fat shames her daughter. Just like Bree who was once considered a supreme bitch, she was really only starving and jealous of people like Roz and Mercedes who didn't cave to society expectations and enjoyed food. Now, Janette was twenty-five pounds heavier and a more pleasant woman to be around. And only considered mildly bitchy by her daughters.

Steven Reynolds spends so much time with Cedes, Sam, and Harmony on social occasions that, given their willingness to say, "Steven Reynolds, you're being a butthead," he has stopped being a butthead when he's with them. At all other times, he continues being a butthead. Harmony loves him anyway. Because he is not a butthead around or regarding Harry. Harry got a growth spurt at fourteen, shot up and filled out and became a carbon copy of his father and uncle, except that he has dark hair that still flops over his forehead and he still wears glasses. He eventually became an ichthyologist, met a thick girl on a dive in the Bahamas, fell in love, and married her a month later. She could be considered a mini Cedes because she has a logical mind and a penchant for shoes. He still can't eat more than one doughnut.

Santana and Sheila parted company after a year with no hard feelings. Shortly after that, Santana went to work for Rory, where she met a mathematical genius who, it turned out, adored Elvis Costello and everything else. Truly this woman loved everybody and everything. Four months later she and Brittany moved into a lavish loft in the city, and a year later they went to China and adopted a little girl and have a cat named Lord Tubbington. Santana is a stay-at-home mom who sings when she gets gigs and is no longer allowing other people to prey on her low self-esteem. Brittany brings out the best in her, and she in Brittany.

Ryder and Marley got married, moved to the suburbs, and had four kids. Three boys and one girl. They are all taller than Cedes and sweet as can be. Everybody goes to their house for the holidays.

Bree got engaged twice more in four years, once to Phil Lipoff and then to Azimio Adams, but she broke off both engagements, crying in Hunter's arms each time. He told her she had lousy taste in men and to try picking a good one next time, so she proposed to him. He said no, appalled. Six weeks later they eloped to Kentucky because Hunter had tickets for the Derby. They have three kids, all big-boned, beautiful girls who dominate whatever field or court they play on, probably because they eat carbs.

Holly continues to have an exciting, varied, constantly changing lifestyle, that is much too complicated to synopsize here and yes she is still single and she is very complete and happy. She is currently dating her boy-toy Joe Hart the temporary yin to her yang. Everybody likes and gets along with Joe and this will push Holly to change him with someone else before the month is over.

Sam bought Cedes an engagement ring made of six perfect diamonds set in a circle. It looks nothing like a Krispy Kreme, but Cedes knows. They got married in the same church that Bree didn't get married in and the entire congregation was let down because everything went as planned; it was a beautiful ceremony that even caused Sam's parents to show appropriate emotion. They bought an Arts and Crafts bungalow one block from Cedes' apartment. It has seventeen steps up from the street and fifteen steps to get to upstairs and fifteen more to get to the attic. They also bought a mission couch like Marley's, and occasionally somebody gets tied to it more often it's Sam who ties himself to it. They go to the If Dinner at Rory's every Thursday night with Ryder and Marley and Hunter and Bree and Holly and whomever Holly's seeing that week. His mother tolerates her. Her mother adores him. They don't have kids, but they did get two dogs. One is named Elvis McConaughey he's Sam, and of course the other is Cedes' and his name is Tupac. They enjoy their nieces and their godchildren and are okay being married and childless being that they are close to fifty. They treat their doggies like their children anyways. Mercedes accepts her weight and eats whatever she wants. Sam no longer cares about being called stupid. They both grew up and let the past go and now live their best lives.

All of them lived sort of happily ever after.

* * *

**Repost from Sam if you read it there, please ignore**: Just saw Dorknhime just come out with a new story One True Love based on one of my favorite author's Jude Devereaux's work. Please if you get a chance, read it today along with all of the wonderful Samcedian fanfiction writers that keep us with something worth reading. I can't read all of them and write and edit at the same time, but I will try once they are completed and I have a break from work. Also arwenforlife and Twrites and everybody else that are brave enough and have enough time to do this deserve all the support that you can give. This is not easy and takes a lot of time. So, please read and support their stories if you can because I recently read an update from another favorite author of mine from another fandom and she came back because people like you who DM her and review her story compelled her to complete an awesome work. Thanks again for all the love and support my read or dies give me you know who you are I truly am appreciative of all you do. And much love to new readers as well. Goodbye for now.


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